


Together On Mars

by StarlitSky



Series: Follow Me Back Home [3]
Category: Biker Mice From Mars
Genre: 90s Series, Action, Alien Biology, Discrimination, Drama, F/M, Family, Friendship, Mystery, Part 2, Romance, Sequel, Suspense, Unexpected Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 124,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlitSky/pseuds/StarlitSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several months have passed and each of the happy couples have settled comfortably into their new lives. Nothing is ever perfect, though. Throttle has to cope with the sexual frustration that arises every four months, and Modo is still struggling to come to terms with Rimfire's decision. Plus at least one of the couples are in for a life-changing surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_I see the waves of sand_  
_Big, free_  
_Another land_  
_Dreams within dreams_  
_You are alive_  
_They gave me their wings_  
_I spread them wide_  
~The Reign;  Tarja

"Hey, have you heard this one before? A one-eyed Martian walked into a bar..."

Modo narrowed his lone eye at the mouse speaking. "Yes?" he prompted icily.

A burly mouse with sand-colored fur and mud brown hair that brushed his shoulders rolled his own eyes and set a glass bottle down on the counter with a loud clunk. "And he ordered a root beer," he finished cattily. "Seriously, you're a grown mouse. Aren't you ever going to order anything stronger?"

"Nope," Modo responded casually, as he snatched up the bottle and popped the top off. "It'd make my mama frown."

Conrad, the bartender and owner of the bar, rolled his eyes again and swiped a rag across the counter. "Yeah, yeah. The way you three keep chugging those on me, I ought to charge you double. You know," he added, his tone turning awkward, "if I wasn't supplied with them for free."

"Well, here's somethin' for your trouble," said Modo. He tossed a coin onto the bar and left, pausing outside to take a long drink of the sweet, bubbly liquid. The sky was bright today, as clear as the sky over Mars could be. The area surrounding Conrad's was quiet, which it usually was, since the bar and grill was near the outskirts of the residential district. Scattered clumps of dark grass poked up through the sand around the cluster of old, rough-looking buildings, and Modo leaned back against the coarse wall of the bar as he took another drink, watching the Martian figures moving in the distance as they went about their daily lives.

He barely heard the approaching footsteps on the hard ground over his own gulping, but he did--barely. He knew immediately that those steps could only belong to one being. Even Ashlin, delicate as she was, didn't walk that soft or quiet. Ashlin had an adorable habit of scampering.

He swallowed his mouthful and turned, and a moment later Tamerin came around the corner of the bar. Every biker's dream come true: scuffed black boots laden with buckles, a skin-tight t-shirt with the sleeves--and a few other parts--clipped off, a cropped leather jacket that glittered with zippers, black leather gloves with no fingers...and let's not forget the impossibly tight latex rubber pants. Pants that made one a little worried--or in some cases hopeful--that they would split, especially when she stopped walking and shifted her weight to one side.

"Have you seen Throttle?" she asked, resting a hand on her jutting hip.

Modo gave his head a shake. "Not since this mornin'."

Tamerin clucked her tongue and pushed her sunglasses up into her hair. "He's not at the garage, so he must have gone for a ride without me. I'll have to spank him when he gets back."

As she spoke, she cast a glance over her shoulder at the sprawling building visible in the distance behind her...which meant she missed the blush that spread across the gray mouse's cheeks. He didn't exactly appreciate the images her last sentence conjured up.

"I still have a few more things left to do," she noted, her right hand still fiddling with her sunglasses. The light caught the metal charm dangling from the bracelet she wore, making it glisten. He was all but used to it by now, but sometimes it still struck Modo as a little strange. He was accustomed to seeing that spiked shape dangle from the ear of his bro.

Throttle had other ear adornment these days, and he had talked Tamerin into getting a few of her own. A row of tiny rhinestone studs curved along the cartilage of her left ear, each one glittering a different color--a contrast to the plain silver stud in her right earlobe. But it seemed like anything went well with her white skin, which was even glossier than her matching mane of white hair.

Not like her mother, whose flame-red hair was every bit as glistening and lustrous as her pure white skin, like her flesh had been formed from freshly fallen snow. He hastily pushed this thought from his mind; Tamerin's mama was still a sore subject for him.

"You're welcome, by the way."

Puzzled, Modo looked and saw that her gaze was fixed on the bottle in his hand. "Oh--yeah. Thanks," he mumbled.

"Don't mention it," Tamerin said crisply, with a toss of her snowy hair. "It's not _that_ big of an inconvenience to teleport all the way from Mars to Earth and back again, just for a couple crates of liquid sugar in a bottle."

Modo squirmed and glanced away. Tamerin grinned and lightly punched his jaw. "Kidding, big guy. You know I'd do anything for you three."

"Four," Modo reminded her.

"Oh, yes," she amended, with a roll of her eyes. "I forgot, you've corrupted Rimfire."

The comment made him bristle. He wanted to say something about exactly who had 'corrupted' his nephew, but he held his tongue. Tamerin had given him a playful punch a moment ago, but that didn't mean she wouldn't knock him flat with the real thing in less than a heartbeat if he pushed her temper. "You headin' back to the garage?" he asked instead, changing the subject.

Tamerin glanced behind her again. "In a minute. I need to pick up a few things."

She nudged her sunglasses back down, lifted a hand in farewell and walked away, hips swaying. Modo absently leaned against the side of the bar again, his eye on the Second Chance Garage. Less than six months ago, that shabby building had been nothing but an old storage facility that wasn't used anymore. But within a week of following Vinnie from Earth to Mars, Charley had adopted it. "I'm on a planet covered in bikers," she had explained. "I'm going to need _somewhere_ to keep all the bikes I'll be fixing."

The three of them had laughed at the time, thinking that she was getting a little ahead of herself...but word traveled fast, and once the locals knew that a pretty and talented mechanic had moved into town, they came in droves. Before long, Charley was swamped with repairs. The rest of them started helping out in any way they could--Ashlin and Tamerin, too--in the hopes of lightening the load a little...and before they knew it, things just kind of fell in place. The shabby building looked a lot less shabby now, especially on the inside, which was cleaned up and decorated with posters and had music pumping during the daylight hours--the kind of place where any biker would feel at home. Charley was the boss, and the rest of them were her obedient little workers...most of the time.

It was a great way to live, and Modo couldn't remember a time when he--and everyone else--had felt happier. In fact, he'd even go so far as to say that life was perfect...except for that one tiny little thing.

But he really didn't want to think about the coldness that still existed between him and his nephew right now. He still had a job or two to finish up, but it was nothing that wouldn't keep until later, so after gulping down the last of his root beer and tossing the bottle away, he started for home.

* * *

After putting the last of her tools away, Tamerin slid the toolbox into her personal locker and latched it. She wasn't accustomed to locking things, but she had learned quickly that if she didn't protect her tools around here, they would mysteriously disappear. Not because her fellow mechanics were dishonest...just forgetful and disorganized.

"I'm done here, so I'll be heading out," she announced.

Across the room, Charley looked up from the engine she was working on, her expression both surprised and impressed. "Already? That was fast."

Of course it was. She might not be Military anymore, but the traits of a soldier were ingrained in her...whether she wanted them to be or not. Everything she did was swift and efficient; she never wasted time when she had a job to do. It wasn't in her nature to be sloppy or lazy, so when it came to the checklist of jobs that Charley wrote out every day--one each for her, Throttle, Modo, and Vinnie--she was always done first.

Tamerin actually wouldn't mind letting things slip every once in a while, but it was like her very genes fought against it.

Scowling suddenly, Charley reached over, snatched the magazine Vinnie was reading out of his hands and swatted his hip with it. "If you stopped lazing around all day, you wouldn't always have to work so late," she scolded.

"Hey, I get things done," Vinnie protested. "Just in my own time."

Tamerin hid a smile and shook her head. It didn't matter if Vinnie bothered to apply himself and finish his work early or not; he'd still stay in the garage all day, so long as Charley was in here. Charley should have realized that by now.

With a giggle, a small white shape suddenly tottered across the floor, making a beeline for the engine still sitting out on the workbench. "I hep Mommy," Vector announced happily, as he poked at the machine with a plastic wrench.

The sight made Charley laugh and scoop her son into a loving hug. "At least somebody around here has a good worth ethic," she noted wryly.

Vinnie didn't respond. He just put his arms around his wife and son, which was exactly what he had been quietly waiting around for all along. Still smiling discreetly, Tamerin saw herself out.

Living on Mars was infinitely different from living on Malteria, but she'd quickly grown used to it. There was never any doubt that she would. Like the rest of her kind, she was genetically designed to adapt swiftly to virtually any environment, whether it was comfortable or not. Mars wasn't uncomfortable...just different. It had perceptible day and night, shifts in temperature, sand storms, unfriendly and potentially dangerous neighbors. It was a place that was harsh at times, but it didn't bother her.

Another adjustment was living in a cave instead of an underwater city. Her home with Throttle had dark brown walls made of tightly packed dirt and rock, and the gray stone floor was covered in soft rugs. There was basic furniture and separate rooms, with sliding doors built straight into the rock of the walls. It was an unusual combination of primitive and advanced, but it was warm and dry.

Not that any of it really mattered. She could live just about anywhere, wet or dry--her body could handle both. The location and its characteristics didn't matter to her. All she needed to keep her happy was Throttle.

She wondered sometimes, even with him able to pick up her emotions through his antennae like he could, if he really knew just how much her heart soared when he was near and how badly she ached for him when they were apart. Even now, mildly annoyed with him for running off somewhere and having fun without her like she was, she longed for his voice, his subtle scent.

And speaking of scents...

After leaving her boots on the mat by the front door and hanging up her jacket on an empty hook, she paused to sniff her bare arm. Frowning, she tugged her gloves off and sniffed the glands hidden along the tender inside of her wrists; yes, it was there. That telltale sweetness that always precluded fertility. Except now that she was mated it was so subtle she had almost failed to spot it last time. After over forty years of waking up one morning practically drowning in her own scent, having cycles that were nearly undetectable was a big adjustment.

Fortunately, enough pheromones still pumped into her scent glands for her to notice, and just like always, that sweet smell showed up several hours before she was completely fertile. Unfortunately...the painful ache of arousal that went along with her cycle had only dulled a little from back when she was unmated.

At least it served as a reliable warning sign. A fellow Imeeran would be able to detect when his mate was fertile with ease, but Throttle...he couldn't tell the difference between the smell of fertility and the smell of sexual excitement, which she had to admit were irritatingly similar. And pushing him away was a lot harder than she first thought it would be, but she couldn't take the chance of ever getting pregnant. Thanks to the seemingly infinite amount of genetic material used in the creation of her species, no one had any clue what would happen if someone were to breed with a non-Imeeran. There was a chance the pregnancy would fail in the early stages, or a chance she might give birth to something completely normal...or a chance that the clashing genetics would produce some horrific mess.

She really didn't want to be the test subject who found out, and so she braced herself as she sat down on the living room couch, waiting for the inevitable tension that would arise once Throttle came home and got a whiff of her--a tension that would only get worse when she told him to back off. It almost made her wish they would have a lover's quarrel when he got back--something they hadn't done yet--so she would have an excuse to avoid him for a week. Well, another excuse.

When he came home a little while later, she folded her arms and tried to look put out--which he missed completely, since for some strange reason he walked backwards through the front door. "So, did you have fun?" she asked, as dryly as she could. "I wouldn't know, since you went without me."

Throttle just chuckled and started nudging off his boots. Really, pretending to be annoyed when she wasn't was such a waste of time. Thanks to his antennae, he could read her emotions even more clearly and strongly than she could read his. In response to her words she felt a twinge of amusement from him; no doubt he thought she was only playing. She didn't often tease him or joke around--not like she did with Vinnie and Modo. She always tried to be gentle with his feelings, knowing that they were a lot more fragile than he let on...and whenever she _did_ tease him, it was because she was trying to coax him to come over and...punish her.

Well, good job, ex-Major-General, she thought sarcastically.

"I would have brought you with," Throttle said, still facing the door, "but somebody persuaded me to take him for a ride. He was pretty insistent and I didn't want to keep him waiting."

Tamerin found herself wishing that the old rumor that had existed since shortly after the first twenty settled on Malteria was true--that once a couple had been together long enough, they would be able to read each other's minds and send their thoughts to each other. It was a long held, if fanciful belief that had never been proven, since all of the oldest couples--some of which who had been together for centuries--had been killed in combat. Tamerin wasn't sure if she believed it herself, but she wouldn't mind being able to peek inside Throttle's head about now--but even if it was really something that was possible, it would take a lot more time to achieve. Time and sex. Lots of sex.

Focus, damn it!

Hoping that her indifference to what he had just said didn't register through their bond, she made a bigger show of pouting. "Throttle, I put up with you always running off with the others because I love them like family, but if you're going to start disappearing for hours with a complete stranger..."

She trailed off, because sometimes leaving a sentence unfinished said far more all on its own...and because she was pretty sure her little act was a colossal failure. And then Throttle turned around.

Her heart did a somersault. Cradled tenderly in his arms was a little boy with shaggy off-white fur and two stubby horns. He had his head cuddled against Throttle's chest, and there was a faint smile on his face as he dreamed.

Tamerin swallowed back the lump rising into her throat and said nothing. Neither did Throttle. He just quietly planted a kiss on the top of Michio's head before carrying him to his room. He came back a moment later and flopped down next to her, casually draping his arm on the back of the couch. "So, are you going to make up for being mean to me?"

"I was only kidding," she said quickly.

Throttle smirked. "I know."

He leaned to kiss her; she hastily planted a hand on his chest. "Wait."

Eyebrows raised, Throttle pushed his specs up to his forehead and eyed her curiously. Sighing, Tamerin held out her arm, displaying the inside of her wrist. He knew all about her scent glands--and knew all the places they hid on her body--and he cupped her hand in his as he brought his nose to her skin, inhaling deeply. He made a sound low in his throat and nuzzled the sensitive inside of her wrist.

Tamerin barely withheld a whimper; that wasn't the reaction she had been trying to invoke. "Throttle..."

With another low sound--like a growl crossed with a purr--he kissed and nuzzled his way up her arm. It seemed like in less than a second he had made his way up to her throat--the place where her largest and most potent scent gland hid--and started gently nipping at her skin as he pressed his firm body against hers, pushing her back into the cushions of the couch.

Her own body responded instantly, her skin turning warm beneath his touch while her breath quickened. The space between her legs was also starting to warm, and it was all she could do not to lock her ankles around his back and yank him closer.

All that from just a brief bit of touching? He hadn't even kissed her yet. She must be closer to actually being fertile than she thought--if she wasn't already. With all the strong smells in the garage, she could have been giving off the signals for hours and never noticed.

Her heart was pounding now, but not from excitement--well, not completely. She tried to squirm away, to put her hands to his chest and shove, but Throttle was grappling for her, wrapping his strong arms around her as he all but crushed her to him. Not that she couldn't get him off with ease, but...she disliked using physical force against the one she loved. "Come on," he murmured in her ear, his voice even huskier than usual. "Let's go finish this in the bedroom."

Grunting, Tamerin twisted her face away as he started to kiss her. "No."

His cheek pressed against hers, she felt him blink. "No? You want to go at it right here? Fine by me, but there's no door and Mitch might wake up and walk in on us..."

With another grunt, she jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow and shoved him away with her bare foot. "I mean _no_ ," she repeated firmly, as she scooted back until she was pressed against the arm of the couch. "Not now."

She tucked her knees tightly to her chest. Throttle blinked again, his brow furrowing a little. "Are you still playing?" he asked suspiciously.

"No," she muttered. "I'm fertile."

Throttle let out a groan and slumped back against the other arm. "Already?"

"It's been four months," she reminded him.

She had already been fertile once since they first got together, shortly after she moved in with him here on Mars. But they had both been busy at the time, helping Charley set up her new garage. Avoiding each other had been relatively easy. But now...

Now they had a routine. They spent most of the day working in Second Chance together, they went on rides together during their free time, they took Michio to school together, they came home and had almost every meal together, and every night they fell asleep in each other's arms...because virtually every night they made love to each other.

Sure, it was excessive, even for an Imeeran, but she couldn't help it. She'd been alone for a long time before they met, and she loved him desperately. They had a connection that she hadn't been sure they would be able to achieve at first, since he wasn't an Imeeran...but she had been wrong. _Completely_ wrong. And it was that very connection that had them grappling for each other so often. It was a sense of oneness that was so pure, so perfect...it was addicting.

The other thing that never failed to stoke their passion--or rather his--was the smell that was currently flowing from her pores. And getting worse by the minute. She breathed a sigh. "I'll sleep here," she offered.

"And leave me with the bed?" Throttle asked dryly. "A bed that smells like you? No thanks. Scoot."

He gripped her by the waist and shoved her off the couch, then stretched out with his arms folded beneath his head. He looked put out, and she felt ripples of irritation coming through their bond. She absently rubbed her arm--as if she could buff the smell away. "Sorry," she mumbled.

His expression softened, just as he nudged his specs back down over his eyes. A flicker of love washed over the irritation, sweeping it away. "Not your fault. Can't fight biology."

Tamerin smiled faintly. "Guess I'll go start on dinner," she said uncertainly.

"No, I'll handle it," Throttle said quickly. "You should probably go eat somewhere else tonight. Let that smell clear out of here for a while."

Grimacing, Tamerin unconsciously lifted her wrist to her nose. "Is it that bad?"

Honestly, she thought that her own scent was kind of nauseating, it was so cloying and sweet. She didn't really notice most of the time--only when she was fertile. Yet Throttle, just like an Imeeran male, reacted to it like it was the most wonderful fragrance in the universe. Sometimes before they made love he would smell her as part of their foreplay--just run his face all over her body, breathing in. It was flattering, and she enjoyed the affect it had on him...except right now, that is.

Instead of answering her question, Throttle let out a quiet sigh. "Tam, you know I love you. And it's because I love you that I'm politely telling you to get out of here while I can still control myself."

"...Right. I'll go eat someplace else tonight."

"I think that would be wise."

Even though he was plainly telling her to get lost, it felt funny to leave so abruptly. They almost never said goodbye to each other without touching in some way first. Squeezing a hand or an arm, bestowing a hug, a brief--or not so brief--kiss. She knew better than that, so she quietly put her jacket back on, slid on her boots and stepped back out into the early evening air.

This was going to be a long week.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm back," Modo called as he stepped through the front door of his home. Immediately a brown-and-green shape scampered across the living room rug and and leaped for his arms. "Daddy!"

Chuckling, Modo scooped little Ako up and scratched behind his long ears. "Hey, kiddo. Were you a good boy today?"

"I'm _always_ a good boy," Ako said firmly.

Musical laughter sounded across the room. "Most of the time," Ashlin agreed.

Modo's eyes drifted over to the overstuffed chair by the bookcase, where Ashlin was curled up and busy sewing a patch on a pair of his jeans. A wave of love swept through his heart, and he absently kissed Ako's fuzzy head before setting him down and moving over to the chair. "How was your day?" he asked, reaching up to lightly brush his hand over Ashlin's soft cheek.

She looked up from her work and smiled at him. "Quiet," she reported.

"Good."

Ashlin's time was divided between her work at Second Chance and taking care of Ako, so Charley gave her a much smaller workload of things that could mostly be done at home. Though in truth...Ako had nothing to do with this decision. There were a lot of mice out there who wouldn't come within fifty feet of the garage if they knew that a half-rat was in there, and if they ever happened to go in, or if they bumped into Ashlin somewhere else...some extremely unkind words would be said. Charley understood this and tried to make sure that Ashlin didn't have to come by during working hours, but even then, things still happened sometimes.

Things that broke his heart and left him seething with rage. But she was happy tonight, so he hastily shoved any dark thoughts from his mind as he returned her smile. She took hold of his hand, kissed his fingers, then moved them aside and looked back down at her mending. "Are you done for the day?" she asked as she tied off the thread.

"Almost," he said, a touch sheepishly. "I thought I'd come make you two somethin' to eat and take care of it later."

Ashlin brightened, and she set her finished work aside and stood. "I have an idea: let's go out to eat. Then Ako and I can help you finish up."

Modo thought this over for a moment. It was after hours, so it wasn't likely that any more customers would stop by the garage. And Conrad over at the bar...he didn't like Ashlin hanging around, knowing how his customers reacted, but he didn't mind her, generally. It wouldn't hurt to stop by and pick something up. "All right," he agreed. "You ready to go?"

"Almost," she said, as she gave a stretch. "Just let me grab my boots."

Modo grew quiet as he watched how she arched her arms above her head before scampering over to where she kept her boots. In the short time he had known her she had changed a little, even during the last couple of months since she turned twenty. She had finished growing years ago and would never get any taller, but recently she had filled out a little. Her hips were a little more pronounced, her shoulders were softer...and he tried not to look too closely at how round, full, and firm her breasts had become.

His mama attributed how healthy she looked these days to being on Mars--where she belonged, she said. Tamerin blamed the sudden weight gain on all the junk food she had been eating lately. Whatever the reason...she had never looked more beautiful.

She straightened with a smile, unaware of the direction his thoughts had headed--and he planned to keep it that way. She wasn't a child anymore, but she had led a pretty sheltered existence up to now, and despite having had to endure the hardships of war her entire life, she had maintained a great deal of her innocence. He didn't want to spoil that by letting on that some of his thoughts about her had turned, for lack of a better term, a little less than pure lately.

With the gentle laugh that always warmed Modo from head to toe, Ashlin scooped up Ako and snuggled him against her cheek. "Are you ready too?" she asked him playfully.

"Ready for yummies," Ako said eagerly.

She laughed again, and Modo, smiling softly, slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. He continued to hold her protectively at his side as they left the shelter of their home, but no one appeared to be around as he mounted his bike. Ashlin hopped on behind him and kept Ako tucked safely under her arm while she hung on to Modo with the other. Overhead, the Martian sky was a deep and hazy blue as nightfall drew near, casting long shadows across the sand, which kicked up in airy cloud-like puffs beneath the tires of his bike. They passed a few of their neighbors on the way to Conrad's, but no one stopped to do more than glance their way. No one said anything tonight. Lucky for them.

Conrad didn't say anything either when they walked through his door a few minutes later. He just took their order and passed it to them in takeout bags, which they accepted before traveling the short distance to the garage. Inside the main room, the radio was pumping out a heavy tune, and a lone light was on over a workbench near the back. Worn lockers were lined up along one wall, crammed with tools and spare parts, and workbenches, tables, and sawhorses were spread haphazardly around the floor, which was covered in a variety of stains. Modo took a quiet sniff, taking in the familiar scents of motor oil and bike exhaust--the best scents ever invented.

The owner of this little slice of biker mouse heaven and her spouse were bantering over by the back workbench. A tired-looking engine rested between them. "Are you two _still_ workin' on that thing?" Modo asked, with mock sternness.

"He's been 'helping' me all day," Charley groused. "If I was tackling this by myself, I'd have been done hours ago."

Vinnie stuck out his tongue. Modo snickered. "I can take it," he said confidently. "Just give me five minutes."

"Be my guest," offered Charley, wiping her hands off with a rag. "By the way, do you have a socket wrench? Mister Maturity here lost mine."

Vinnie folded his arms and continued to pout; Modo thought for a moment. "Hang on, I think I left my tools outside."

While Ashlin and Ako made themselves comfortable and started eating, he headed back outside. There were tables and sawhorses in the yard for the parts that were too big to work on indoors; he vaguely remembered leaving his toolbox underneath one of the tables earlier. He quickly located it and as he bent to retrieve it, he heard footsteps approaching, along with a familiar pair of voices. "I wish you didn't have to patrol for so long," a female voice stated in what could only be described as a sultry purr. "I get lonely without you."

"I wish I didn't have to either," a male voice responded, with a sigh of lament. "But what can you do? We all have our duties."

"Not me," the purring voice declared tartly. "Ironic, isn't it? I'm used to being on top, and now a meager little member of the security team outranks me."

This prompted a teasing snicker. "Hey, you're a civvie now-- _everyone_ outranks you."

Modo straightened up, toolbox in hand, and turned around...though he didn't really want to. If he lived to be a thousand, he didn't think he would ever get used to seeing this.

The sight his nephew made when he was wrapped in the arms of an older woman--a _much_ older woman, even if she didn't look it. If you didn't know any better, ex-General Bevra appeared to be about the same age as her daughter Tamerin, who was also considerably older than she looked. With her snow white skin and frosty demeanor, Bevra was the very image of an ice queen...or at least she used to be. She still behaved coolly to everyone else, but when she was with the mouse she currently had her arms around, that coolness vanished like it had never existed.

Underneath her icy exterior she had a temper that ran as hot as the core of Mars, and she had a libido to match. Not that Modo cared to think about that...but when the two were cuddled up against each other like they were right now, it was kind of hard not to be reminded.

Rimfire had his arm locked snugly around the Imeeran's shoulders, while she had both her arms around his midsection, with her head on his shoulder as they walked. She had to hunker down a little to manage it, but when she was standing straight, she was a little taller than the male Martian--or just his height if you counted his antennas.

Rimfire must have just gotten off guard duty, and it looked like the pair was heading home, or out to eat. Modo didn't ask; he just watched silently as they drew nearer, passing in front of the garage on their way to wherever they were going. "I'm hungry," Rimfire commented.

Bevra made that purring sound again and ran her hand across his chest. "Me too," she said lowly. "Except I'm ready to dive right into dessert."

She blatantly ran her fingers down his side to his leg and squeezed his thigh. Rimfire merely grinned. "No harm in working up a little more appetite first," he mused.

It was during times like this that Modo flashed back to days gone by--when he had vowed to protect his sister's little boy with his life. His sweet, innocent little nephew...which was still the face he saw during moments like this. He had to admit, it turned his stomach a little.

He didn't make a sound, hanging back by the cluttered table like a shadow, but Rimfire still noticed him. He didn't react to his uncle's presence...except to shift his body to the side a little, drawing his arm further around Bevra, the gesture clearly protective. If Bevra had spotted him too, she didn't acknowledge it as she cuddled closer to the young mouse, who rubbed his hand up and down her bare arm. They kept walking and were soon out of sight.

It wasn't until they were gone that Modo let himself relax. He would be lying if he said that the thought of his nephew being with a female who was nearly three hundred years old didn't ruffle his fur a little. Seeing him with any female would make him feel strange, but he doubted that he would be anywhere as upset if Rimfire had done the sensible thing and made his first love with someone his own age.

And as it stood, Bevra would be his first and _only_ love. It seemed so unfair--he was still so young and had so much more to experience in life--but there was no chance now for him to see who might else be out there, someone who was probably much more right for him. Imeerans mated for life, and to leave Bevra now would be an act punishable by death. So that meant Rimfire had to stay with her, whether he wanted to or not.

Rimfire insisted that he did--that he loved her and wanted to be with her forever and knew exactly what he was getting into--and Modo believed him, because his nephew believed what he was saying...for now. Hearts had a funny way of changing, and Modo worried almost daily what kind of position Rimfire would find himself in if one day he decided that he didn't want to spend the rest of his life with Bevra after all.

Modo gave himself a shake and pushed the thought from his mind before heading back inside. They'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

* * *

After scrounging up dinner and wrestling his rambunctious adopted son into bed, Throttle managed to doze off on the couch for a while. Tamerin was still gone when he fell asleep, but when he woke up again later, he sensed that she was back. He couldn't tell by the smell that still lingered in the air--the smell that hadn't faded much even after she had gone out--but something inside him said that her presence was close by.

It was faint, like a vague sense of touching, except it was inside his mind. He only felt it when she was near; all a part of their bond. He tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, but after several minutes of tossing and shifting uncomfortably, he finally slipped his bare feet to the floor and--even though he knew he shouldn't--crept over to the door that led into their bedroom.

Tamerin wasn't in the habit of locking things, so it slid open with a quiet hiss as he neared, and he leaned his fist against the doorframe as he looked over at the female who was his mate.

She was sitting on the bed with her long legs tucked under her and was in the middle of combing her hair, though she paused when the door opened. She must have just taken a shower, because her waist-length hair was still a little damp. Her white skin, dewy and luminous as the surface of a pearl, seemed to glow in the soft light.

It was a sight that made his breath catch in his throat. She was so beautiful...and _damn_ , did she smell good right now.

Showering had actually made it worse. The lingering hints of motor grease, oil, and dust had been scrubbed away, allowing the heady fragrance of her fertility to seep freely from her skin. If that wasn't bad enough...she was dressed in nothing but one of his old shirts. Her bare arms and legs gleamed like moonlight.

Her equally luminous blue eyes were watching him as she drew the comb through her hair again, and he didn't need their bond to know that she was wary of him being so close right now. "I'm assuming that you're only here to say goodnight before going straight back to sleep," she commented tartly.

"I don't think I can. Sleep, that is."

Tamerin pursed her lips and set the comb down. "You want me to take the couch instead? I don't mind."

"No thanks. I doubt that'd help."

They'd managed to avoid this the last time, but now that he had been fully exposed to her powerful scent, he knew that he had to have her in some way. If he didn't, he probably wouldn't sleep for the entire week. This desire must have gotten through their bond to her, because she suddenly tugged at the hem of her shirt, holding it down protectively. "No joke, here," she warned. "We don't know exactly what might come out, so right now you don't get to go in. Is that clear?"

Throttle pushed away from the doorframe and took a step forward; the door closed behind him. He absently reached back and pressed the button to lock it. "Completely. I can control myself, you know."

"I sure hope so," Tamerin said, as her worry trickled to him. "For all we know, I could wind up carrying something that normally comes out of an egg. Something that'll claw its way clear out of me. Sure, I'd survive, but it wouldn't be a whole lot of fun."

"I know," Throttle said softly. "And I'm not so stupid that I'd ever put you through that. I'm keeping my pants zipped and my belt snug tonight--honest."

Tamerin continued to eye him warily. "Then what do you want?" she asked.

Throttle smiled slightly as he moved closer and rested one knee on the bed. It didn't change the distance between them much, but her scent still washed over him, and he pulled in a quiet breath, drawing even more of it in. It made his body grow even warmer than it already was and made his head swim and tingle, and he felt like if he closed his eyes and kept breathing, he just might drown. He unconsciously wet his mouth around his teeth. "Just a little taste. I think that if I have at least that part you, it'll make me feel better. And maybe you, too."

Tamerin shifted a little, her grip on the hem of her shirt remaining tight. "That would be all right, I suppose," she allowed in a reluctant voice--though he could clearly feel her excitement at the idea. "So long as you get right out of here afterward."

"Agreed," said Throttle, before he leaned forward to rest his hands on the mattress and crawled his way closer to her.

Her apprehension was still plain, but as he lightly gripped her hips, tugged her down so she was lying back on the pillows and then nudged her shirt up, he also felt her trust. She trusted him completely--trusted him to control himself. And he was confident that he could...at least until he had pushed her shirt up to her waist, exposing her center--which caused the full force of the sexual arousal that always went with her fertility to hit him squarely in the nose. He almost moaned out loud; the dull ache that had been lingering in his pants since before he fell asleep increased until it hurt, and he found himself wondering if this would actually help or just make it worse.

Despite his doubt, he didn't want to change his mind. She smelled so damn good right now he was dying to find out what she tasted like. The more excited she was the better she tasted, and she was never more excited than when she was fertile, so...

Tamerin suddenly put a hand on his shoulder. "Hold on."

Throttle almost groaned in disappointment, but he lifted his eyes and looked at her. "Yes?"

"Unzip your pants."

He gave a start. "What? But--"

She grabbed his shoulders and pushed him down onto the mattress with a smirk. "It's only fair," she noted as she shifted around and then straddled over him, resting her knees on either side of his head--giving him an up close and direct view of the apex of her legs. The overwhelming smell of her nearly made him whimper.

Her hands slid down his stomach to the crotch of his jeans, and this time a low moan escaped him. "I think," he hissed, as she slowly drew the zipper down, "I like this idea even better."

"Like I said," she repeated huskily, her breath touching him as she pushed his jeans down his hips, "it's only fair."


	3. Chapter 3

It was late by the time Modo was done at the garage, and they were all covering sleepy yawns as they finished closing up shop for the night. Both Ako and Vector had fallen asleep curled up in an empty toolbox; with a quiet chuckle, Modo lifted his fox-like son and carefully tucked him under one arm, then wrapped his other arm around Ashlin as they left Second Chance. Outside the two trios bid each other goodnight before heading in opposite directions, bound for home.

This time he steered with one hand while cupping Ako in the other, while Ashlin wrapped both arms around him and rested her head on his back for the entire ride home, and when they got inside she made a beeline for the cozy chair by the bookcase. Modo headed through the living room and down the short hallway to a room on the right. It was a small room full of toys and cheerful decorations, along with plenty of fun learning tools. Since he was basically still a baby, he and Ashlin didn't think Ako was quite ready for actual school yet, but they still took time every day to teach him the basics. And Michio came over a lot to help since, as he put it, he might as well put all the time he had to waste in school to good use. Modo got the distinct impression that the little goat-creature saw himself as Ako's big brother.

Smiling to himself, he gently placed Ako on his bed and tucked him in. He was too small for a normal-sized bed, so he and Ashlin had set up a round basket with a plump, fluffy cushion inside. It was nice and cozy and Ako loved it...but he still crept out of his room once in a while and snuggled up on either his or Ashlin's pillow. Not that either of them minded.

When he returned to the living room, Ashlin was still curled up in the chair. Modo 'tsked,' pretending to be stern. "Do I have to tuck you in, too?"

Ashlin giggled and held out her arms. "Yes, please," she said sweetly.

Smirking, Modo gathered her in his arms and carried her bridal-style to her room, which was right across the hall from Ako's. It was only a little bit bigger than his adopted son's room, but after spending most of her life working in the tiny orphanage back on Malteria, Ashlin was comfortable with less space. She had her own bed, a chest of drawers for her clothes, a desk, a plush butterfly chair she liked to sit in when she was reading, and a set of shelves to store all her books and nicknacks. The walls were covered in cheerful pictures drawn by her former wards over the years.

It hadn't been much of a room before--when he and his bros lived here they had used it to dump all the things they didn't know where else to put--but after Ashlin moved in she had made it her own, and all the little touches reflected her personality. The lamp on the bedside table had a blue base in the shape of an Earth dolphin leaping out of the water, and the plush blanket on her bed bore a pattern like rolling waves. Most Martians, mouse or otherwise, weren't usually all that fond of water, but Ashlin found it comforting and liked to keep images of it nearby.

Tightening his arm around her back, Modo bent over to draw the blanket down, then laid her on the mattress so her head rested on the pillow. She watched him with sleepy, half-closed eyes, a faint smile on her face; he smiled softly in return and started to straighten. To his surprise, she tightened her arms around his neck, stopping him. 

Her dark eyes drifted over his face for a moment. Still smiling, she tilted her face up and brushed their noses together, then brought her mouth to his and kissed him, soft as a breeze. He kissed her back just as softly, then started to straighten again--and she tightened her arms again, pulling him closer to her and pressing their mouths more firmly together. She shifted on the bed, and he suddenly became acutely aware of how close they were right now. It made his heart thump soundly and his skin turn warm beneath his fur.

Ashlin kissed him repeatedly, her teeth rubbing lightly against his. She slowly unwound her arms from his neck and drew her fingers up the back of his head, caressing behind his ears. It was a simple touch, but the tenderness of it sent a quiet thrill through him. Carefully, he reached up, lightly gripped her wrists and pulled her hands away. At the same time he pulled back; Ashlin made a quiet sound as he broke away from her mouth.

Her eyes were dewy and full of emotion as he rested her hands on her chest and pulled the blanket up to her chin. "I love you, Modo," she whispered.

"I love you too, darlin'," he whispered back, reaching up to touch her cheek.

She reached for his hand; he hastily gave her fingers a tender squeeze before he drew away and stepped back. He wasn't sure, but he thought a look of disappointment crossed her face as he beat a hasty retreat out into the hall, where he leaned back against the wall outside the door and let out his breath slowly. This wasn't the first time that a moment between them had started to turn...risky. Moments like that always made him nervous, because Ashlin was still so young and innocent he wasn't sure if she was feeling the same things he was or if he was just getting carried away with himself. He didn't want to end up pressuring her into something she wasn't ready for.

Of course, there probably wasn't a single one of their neighbors who believed that things hadn't already gone that far between them, he reminded himself bitterly. Not that he could blame them for thinking that--they _were_ living together, after all. He was probably the only mouse on the planet who could live under the same roof as the one he loved and not even consider taking advantage of the situation, but he didn't care. His mama had raised him to be respectful and to never go where he wasn't wanted, especially where a lady was concerned.

He wasn't going to cross that boundary until he was sure it was okay. When Ashlin was ready...she'd tell him so.

* * *

Throttle was dreaming about blasting his way through a sand raider camp--a favorite pastime--when he heard a loud banging sound. For a minute he thought it was just part of the dream, but then he was blinking his eyes open and staring up at his bedroom ceiling. The banging continued.

"Are you awake in there?" a cross voice asked.

Throttle blinked again, then rolled his head to the side, but the space beside him was empty. The only hint of Tamerin was the faint remains of her scent lingering in the air. He made sure not to breathe in too deeply as he sat up and fastened his jeans. "I'm up," he called with a yawn. "You need breakfast?"

On the other side of the door, Michio let out a huff of exasperation. "No, I need you to take me to school, dufus."

"Hey--don't call your adopted daddy a dufus," Throttle warned.

"I call 'em like I see 'em," Michio said tartly. "So if I'm calling you a dufus it's because you're being a dufus. Now are you going to get up and drive me to school or not? Because if I'm late, the teacher will punish me--unless you write her a note saying that it was all your fault, 'cause you're, y'know, a big _dufus_."

Grunting, Throttle rolled out of bed, grabbed a pair of boots, then threw on one of his old jackets and punched the button that unlocked the door. As it swished open, he surveyed the short creature waiting outside with a pert frown. Michio blinked at him impassively, then threw his arms around his legs. "I wuv you Daddy-Throttle," he cooed.

Throttle snorted and nudged him into motion. "Nice try. You're still grounded."

* * *

Tamerin absently blew a stray lock of hair from her eyes as she tightened a bolt on the part she was working on. She felt a little sluggish today, thanks to the lack of sleep last night. Ordinarily she could go several days without sleep and not feel it...but because so much of her stored energy was already being spent on getting her reproductive system ready and raring to go, she was much more likely to become worn out.

At least Throttle had slept well. After their intimate but safe encounter he had passed out on the spot, despite his promise to leave. He didn't wake up again, so it had been fine. She, on the other hand, hadn't benefited from their little arrangement as much as he had, and she had suspected beforehand that she wouldn't. It had relaxed her for a little while, but not enough for her to sleep. Because unless she suddenly conceived, her body was going to stay in this state of constant sexual arousal and desire until her cycle ran its course.

Granted, it was much easier to deal with and ignore now that she was mated--when she was alone. When she was near Throttle, well...it had taken every last bit of her willpower to keep her hands off him while he slept last night. Lesson learned: she was bunking somewhere else tonight.

In fact, she just might have to take a nap before then. Her eyes were starting to droop, and she paused her work to pull her glove off and rub her eyelids for a moment. "Hey," she heard Vinnie suddenly say, "you okay, babe?"

Tamerin lowered her hand and cocked an eyebrow at him. "Would your wife be annoyed if she heard you calling me 'babe?'" she wondered dryly.

Vinnie snickered and leaned over the bike he was tinkering with. "Sorry, old habit. But seriously, you don't look so good."

No surprise there. The act of not procreating when the body said to procreate was taxing to the point where it started to show in one's appearance, usually through dark circles and bags under the eyes--very attractive. "Just tired," she said absently. "Nothing serious."

Good thing the rule of no male really noticing her scent except for her mate still applied, even though her mate wasn't an Imeeran. Otherwise, Charley would _really_ have something to be annoyed about by now. And speaking of whom...

"Where is she, anyway? Your wife, I mean."

She'd already been here for a few hours but hadn't seen any sign of Charley yet--which was odd, since she was usually in the garage before anybody else. Vinnie snickered again, tossing his wrench into the air and catching it. He looked pleased with himself...and Tamerin had a growing suspicion she knew why. "Still in bed," he reported, with his trademark cheeky grin. "I, uh, tucked her in as soon as we got home last night."

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Tamerin merely pursed her lips and said, "So that makes _one_ task you can see through," even though it wasn't easy to pick on someone when she was painfully jealous.

"Hey, when it comes to my Charley-girl, I see _everything_ through," Vinnie said defensively. "And I make sure I do a _damn_ good job, too."

Tamerin didn't respond...because she was really regretting the conversation going in this direction in the first place. Stifling a sigh, she tugged her glove back on, then glanced at the clock. It was almost noon already, but Throttle hadn't shown up yet--probably trying to avoid running into her. She thought for a moment, then shoved her work into her toolbox and slapped the lid shut. "All right if I tackle this outside for a while?"

Vinnie was bent over a battered muffler, tongue held between his teeth in concentration. "Fine by me," he said absently.

She started for the door, then paused as she heard footsteps outside. Heavy footsteps that could only belong to Modo. She glanced at Vinnie, who wasn't paying any attention, then darted quietly out the door, meeting the large gray mouse in the yard. He stopped as she neared, greeting her with a smile. It made her smile briefly in return; he had such a gentle, amiable nature that wasn't quite like anyone she had ever known. And for this reason she felt perfectly comfortable approaching him with her little problem. "Would you mind if I crashed at your place for a few days?"

Modo blinked his lone eye at her in surprise. His brow furrowed a little as a hint of concern touched his face. "How come? You and Throttle have a fight or somethin'?"

Tamerin flashed a tired smile. "No," she explained, "It's just--" she gestured vaguely at her nether region, "--that quarterly time again. It's easier to keep a little space between us right now."

Modo's expression smoothed again. "Oh. Sure, Ash and I wouldn't mind."

Something flickered across his face, and he quickly shifted his gaze away from hers. It was a look that came and went in an instant, and if Tamerin had blinked she would have missed it. But that was military training for you; even when you were permanently off duty, you didn't miss much of anything. Not even brief twinges of embarrassment in big, gentle mice. Because even though they had been together for six months now, he still grew a little nervous when he talked about himself and Ashlin as a twosome in front of her.

"Hey," said Tamerin, as she reached up to lightly thump her fist against the underside of his jaw. "I'm over it, remember?"

And she was. She had seen firsthand how willing--and able--he was to protect Ashlin. And while the young Martian had a strong will and spirit, she was the sort of person that needed a good, strong protector in her life. Tamerin knew that Modo was fully capable of being that protector. In fact, there was no one else alive she would ever trust the job to. Never mind the rocky footing the three of them had started off on. She knew that he and Ashlin belonged together.

"I know you are," Modo said quickly, looking embarrassed that she had figured out what he was thinking. "Still..." He absently touched his fingertips to his eye. "I can't help bein' a little leery of provokin' those fists of yours again. It took me weeks to heal up last time."

"I know. I apologize."

And she moved his hand, nudged him to lean forward by his shoulders and pressed a kiss just above his eye--just as she heard a footstep crunch to her left. "Am I interrupting something?" asked Charley, her voice full of amusement.

"Hardly," Tamerin responded crisply. "Modo is my unofficially adopted little girl's significant other, so that unofficially makes him my little boy. My, uh, really _big_ little boy," she added with a grin.

Modo made a face at the thought, and Charley let out a laugh as Tamerin turned around--and stopped short in surprise. It was subtle--very subtle--but there was definitely something different about the young Earthling. Tamerin sniffed the air discreetly; Charley had showered right before leaving home, but she still smelled strongly of Vinnie. Something that was barely perceptible hid beneath the musky fragrance of her husband on her skin...something buried down so deep she had to sniff again to be sure. Yes, it was definitely there.

That telltale scent a human female developed immediately after conception took place.

It came and went so quickly it was easy to miss, but she had spent enough time on Earth over the years to come to recognize the semi-sweet fragrance. It was so faint it went undetected by human females--or any human for that matter, so they utilized other means for detecting pregnancy. Tamerin had also learned that the time between intercourse and actual conception varied greatly, especially from species to species. On average, if the female was fully fertile at the time of intercourse, she could wind up conceiving in less than an hour. Martians were reputed to be hardy breeders, with high success rates for both conception and carrying pregnancies to term...and she had heard that male cells were extraordinarily stubborn and could survive in a healthy female's reproductive tract for up to a week, waiting patiently for ovulation to take place if it hadn't already.

Going by the smell now ghosting off of her, Tamerin estimated that Charley must have started ovulating and became fertile sometime during the night or early morning, hours after Vinnie had 'tucked her in.'

She decided not to say anything as Charley walked by and headed into the garage; it wasn't her business. Just because conception had taken place didn't mean it would result in a full pregnancy. Human biology was much more touchy and delicate than an Imeeran's. For her species, once a male had fertilized a female's egg, she was pregnant--no question. Not so for humans, or even Martian mice. Plenty of mishaps could arise between now and when actual implantation took place, and she didn't want to open her mouth only to have the situation change before the day was out, so she bade Modo a quiet goodbye and headed to the far end of the yard with her toolbox.

She cast a glance over her shoulder at the garage once or twice, feeling a distinct twinge of jealousy as she pictured the happy couple inside. Not that she wanted to get pregnant--she didn't need to. She already had all the children she needed in the form of Ashlin and Michio. But did it make her envious that Charley and Vinnie could couple freely without any worries, even if Charley conceived? Absolutely.

And then Throttle showed up. She didn't see him--he came up behind her, and she made sure not to turn around, but she got a whiff of his unique scent on the wind, right before she felt the soft touch that was his mind reaching out to hers. It wasn't a conscious effort for either of them; it happened on its own whenever they were close to each other.

He deliberately kept his distance, skirting the edge of the yard as he headed straight for the garage...but she knew that he could feel her ever-present desire--a desire that only grew worse now that he was near. Sensing this--and being able to smell her excitement in the air around her--made _him_ start to grow excited in return, which recoiled right back to her...and so on. A lovely double-snowball affect. Throttle practically ran for the safety of the garage.

Tamerin let out a long sigh and rubbed between her eyes. This was going to be a _really_ long week.


	4. Chapter 4

"Was it like this for every couple back when you guys weren't breedin'?" Modo wondered, as Tamerin downed the last of the fruit juice Ashlin had squeezed for dinner.

"Basically. I'm sure it was a strain to be apart, but if they all had to go through this every four months, then the couples who were separated when the city was closed off had a much easier time."

Modo frowned in sympathy. "It's too bad you two'll have to worry about this for the rest of your lives."

Tamerin shrugged and pushed her empty plate away. "That's the drawbacks of failed genetics for you."

The thought made his nose twitch. Looking at how capable they were in virtually every way imaginable, Modo had a hard time remembering that the Imeerans had been considered a failed experiment by their creators. And he had had a little difficulty fully understanding why breeding with another species was such a bad idea for them, until Deichan-ma'am explained it to him in detail the last time they spoke.

"Our bodies are comprised of the DNA of many different races and animals," she had told him, "but we're designed to only generate the key factors that make us look the way we do when we procreate. And while we've cataloged many of the species that were used to make us, there are hundreds--maybe thousands--we haven't deciphered yet. And we were only designed with breeding with each other in mind. If we were to suddenly introduce new genetic material that isn't keyed like ours is, there's really no guessing what would come of it."

Modo didn't particularly care to speculate. Even if it was good ol' Martian mouse DNA that went in, with all that other genetic material involved...virtually anything could come out. Maybe something with feathers. Or--he scarcely withheld a shudder--fins.

Though he hadn't forgotten Tamerin mentioning that all Imeerans had gills. He had never seen them himself, but Ashlin said they were virtually undetectable slits on the sides of their necks, and they only expanded underwater. A valve in their lungs then closed, eliminating the need for oxygen and allowing them to remain underwater for pretty much indefinitely. The perfect adaptability--labeled a total failure. He gave his head a shake and pushed his chair back.

Fortunately, he thought as he grabbed his empty plate from the table, Deichan-ma'am didn't need to worry about all that. She and General Jayce had happily settled down together practically the instant the war ended and were already expecting their first child. And Tamerin didn't look remotely concerned with her own situation. She was perfectly content to lean back in her seat and cuddle Ako in her arms, and Ako happily ate the flourish of attention up.

Ashlin chuckled at the sight and started to gather up the remaining dishes; Modo hastily rested his hand over hers, stopping her. "I'll handle this, darlin'. You go relax."

Ashlin released a happy sigh and laid her head on his arm for a moment. "Isn't he perfect?" she said, swooning.

"Mm-hm," said Tamerin absently, not paying the least bit attention as she kissed Ako on the nose. Ako giggled in delight; Tamerin laughed along with him and got up. "I think I'll spend the rest of the evening putting you to bed," she commented.

"Not sleepy," Ako said firmly.

"That's all right, I was planning on giving you a bath first. And then I was going to read to you--and then maybe sing to you."

"Oh. That's different."

Modo let out a chuckle as the two left the kitchen; Ako loved being pampered, especially with a bath. "Well, that's them squared away for the next couple of hours," Ashlin noted wryly. She paused and looked at him for a moment. "You sure you don't want a hand?"

"Positive," he insisted firmly. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then playfully shooed her out of the kitchen. He spent the next half hour or so washing the dishes from dinner, then put everything away and cleaned up the table. Sure, it was a little domestic--and a little boring--but he didn't really mind. He liked being useful and taking care of the ones he loved. Though it _had_ been a while since he and his bros hung out, just the three of them. Maybe tomorrow he could grab them both for a few rounds of root beer and games over at Conrad's. Throttle could sure use the distraction right now, he thought wryly.

When he was finished cleaning up, he dried off his hands--which smelled faintly of dish soap--and left the kitchen. The living room was empty, so he switched off the lamp by the bookcase and headed down the hallway.

From the sound of things Ako was already asleep, and probably Tamerin too. He knew that Ashlin was still awake, though; a quiet strain of music was coming from her room. She had the automatic door locked in the open position, and he looked in to see that she was lying across her bed on her stomach, her bare feet absently kicking in the air as her eyes drifted over the book resting open in front of her.

Ashlin liked fiction of all kinds, but her taste in music ran to varieties much softer than the kind he preferred. She liked ambient music the best, and her favorite was an old CD Tamerin had gotten on Earth called _Music To Disappear In_. As he stepped into the room, he recognized the current track as the one titled 'Disappearing Into You.'

Ashlin looked up from her book with a smile. "What's up?"

"It's late," he pointed out wryly. "Just here to say goodnight."

She sat up and reached back to place her book on the bedside table, then rose up on her knees and beckoned him closer. "Well, come here then," she said coyly.

His shy smile matching hers, Modo went obediently to her waiting arms, and she wrapped them around his neck as he lightly rested his hands on her slender waist. Their mouths met--open without planning to be open, teeth grazing and tongues brushing. The warm contact almost made him shiver, but he held it back--along with the soft moan that threatened to rise into his throat.

This had been happening a lot lately when they kissed, no matter for how briefly. This undeniable spark of passion that he knew could flare up like an inferno, if he let it. Heart thumping, he slowly moved his hands away and started to step back--and just like last night, Ashlin gripped him tightly, stopping him. Not that her small hands had any power over him, but...part of him didn't really want to get away.

Her long fingers curled around the soft fabric of the old vest he was wearing and held it snugly as she moved closer to him, her chest brushing against his as she kissed him harder. "Don't go," she whispered, her mouth still pressed to his.

Her breath quickened as she kissed him again, and Modo found himself putting his arms around her, pulling her even closer. Shivering, Ashlin reached up to frame his face with her hands as she pulled away from his mouth. Her dark eyes met his. "And don't stop."

Modo swallowed thickly. He felt especially aware of how small she felt against him, her slender frame almost frail compared to his. But her eyes held nothing but trust. "Ash, darlin'," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. "Are you sure?"

Biting her bottom lip, she nodded her head. "I've been sure for a while now. I want you and no one but you."

It was all he wanted to hear. His heart filling with so much love for her it hurt, he lifted her up from her spot on the bed; her legs instantly hooked around him as her arms locked around his neck. Their mouths crushed together, tongues stroking and entwining as their kisses turned intense and fevered. Slowly, Modo lifted one knee and placed it on the bed, followed by the other, then lowered Ashlin back until she rested on the mattress.

He hovered over her, keeping his weight off her as they searched each other's mouths, accompanied by the dreamy music that continued to play. Their hands began to roam, exploring each other shyly at first, then slowly, gradually growing more bold. He drew his left hand down the curve of her side, the swell of her hip, and she glided her fingers up beneath his vest and caressed the muscles of his back. Her hands found and grabbed the front of his vest again, pushing it back from his shoulders; he pulled away from her mouth long enough to shrug the vest off the rest of the way and toss it aside.

Piece by piece, the rest of their clothes gradually followed. He kept every move he made slow, hesitating before he did anything and raising his eye in question whenever he did something he thought he should get permission for first; she always consented. There was no hesitation on her part--only that perfect trust glowing in her eyes. Trust and confidence in him...which was something he didn't quite share.

He wondered if she realized just how nervous he was. His hands shook when he peeled away her undershirt and tossed it aside with the rest of their things. Her cheeks visibly darkened beneath her fur at being exposed to him, but she didn't move to cover herself. As Modo trailed his gaze over her shapely form, he felt his breath hitch in his throat. "Ash," he said softly, lowly, "you're so beautiful."

Like all rodents, her fur was thinner along her belly, the flesh a little more sensitive here than places like her arms. She shivered a little, her breath shuddering, as he glided his hand over the shape of her middle. He felt the heat of her skin radiating underneath her fur, felt how her heart was racing inside her rib cage. Before moving any further he silently asked once again; she answered with a small nod. Swallowing his nerves down, he slid his hands up farther, gently cupped the shape of her full breasts with his fingers, then lowered his mouth to the hardened rosiness of her nipple.

Ashlin responded by arching herself against him, a small sound of pleasure escaping her. Encouraged, he continued to bestow attention on that tender bead of flesh, one of the few places on her body that was completely hairless. Ashlin continued to moan and sigh in appreciation as she writhed beneath him, her hands grappling for him, caressing him.

Suddenly she gripped his shoulder, her fingernails softly digging into him. "Modo, I..."

Her voice caught in her throat. Modo immediately pulled away and sat up. "Too much?" he asked gently. "Do you want to stop?"

He was so excited he could barely control the trembling in his hands, the fur beneath his underarms was clumped with sweat, and the throbbing ache in his jeans was all but unbearable. Yet if she told him right now that she didn't want this to go any further...he would stop.

Ashlin gave her head a shake. "No, I..."

Swallowing thickly, she moved her hand down to rest on her hip, still clad in the little white lace bottoms she had on. "I-I'm ready now," she faltered shyly. "Please, I want to have you now."

Those words, spoken so breathlessly and earnestly, caused his already painful arousal to flare to an agonizing peak. Grunting, Ashlin wiggled her bottoms down to her knees; Modo obediently pulled them off the rest of the way. She kept her thighs tightly together, obscuring his view of what he had just uncovered...but he wasn't looking there right now.

His gaze locked with hers as he said, very softly, "If you change your mind about this, don't hesitate to tell me so. No matter what's happening between us at the time, if you tell me to stop, I'll stop. Understand?"

Something flickered across her face; she propped herself up on her elbows with a frown. "Why do you keep saying that?" she asked. "Do you _want_ me to tell you to stop?"

Modo quickly shook his head. "No, darlin', of course I don't. I want this as much as you do, I just..."

He didn't want to give her the wrong idea about why he was so hesitant about this. But it wasn't easy to put what was on his mind into words. He decided it was probably best to just show her so, with a quiet blush, he moved back and stood at the foot of the bed, where he unfastened his jeans and drew them down.

Ashlin made a sound--a strange one. Several seconds ticked by before he built up the courage to look at her again; she was sitting up with one hand pressed to her mouth. Her eyes were round. "Oh. Oh, _my_."

In spite of everything, her reaction made him chuckle quietly. "Well, thank you, darlin'."

He quickly turned serious again. "I know this is your first time, and I want it to be special. Memorable--and for the right reasons. You know I'd never hurt you," he went on, as he moved back onto the bed. "Not deliberately. But if I end up doing _anything_ that hurts, even a little, you let me know. Promise?"

She nodded, and he gently coaxed her back down on the pillows again. "It always hurts a little at first, doesn't it?" she commented as he rested his left hand on her knee. "I just have to get used to it."

Modo wished he was able to confirm that one way or the other, but...

His thoughts faded from his mind as he slowly moved his hand from her knee and up her thigh. Ashlin glanced away, too shy to look him in the eye right now, but she didn't resist as he nudged her thighs apart. The sweet scent of her excitement greeted him from that special place hidden between her legs, nestled amid patches of extra-soft, thick fur.

There was no fur on the spot that he slowly touched, as gently and softly as he could. Ashlin moaned quietly as he stroked her with his fingertips, marveling at how soft the bare swells of flesh felt, so velvety and smooth, and growing plump and moist from his attention.

His own excitement, as aching as it was, had taken a back seat in his mind--but then he felt a soft touch that sent it screeching back to the foreground. His breath hitched and his body went stiff; Ashlin simply smiled, shy but sly. "Only fair," she noted, as she continued to lightly feel along his length.

A low moan escaped him, and he wanted more than anything to just close his eye and lose himself to her touch right now. Instead, he kept his eye open--but averted--as he decided now was as good a time as any to admit it. "Nobody's ever touched me like that before," he whispered.

Her hand stilled. "Never?"

Modo shook his head. "Not even close."

Ashlin looked genuinely surprised. Her hand drifted over to his hip, which she caressed softly. "Handsome guy like you?"

Modo chuckled humorlessly. Her eyes softening, Ashlin drew her tail around his waist. It was thicker than his own tail, but he caressed it lovingly as he spoke again. "My mama taught me to keep this part of me to myself until I met someone who really, truly loved me," he explained. "I had a few crushes here and there, but with the other two around...no one ever really noticed me. Not seriously."

Ashlin snorted quietly. Modo gave his head a small shake, his expression darkening as he looked down at his right hand--the one he had avoided touching her with tonight as much as he could. "And then...this happened," he muttered, curling his metal fingers into a tight fist. "Not to mention this." He fingered his missing eye with his left hand. "After that--"

He never finished. Because Ashlin suddenly did something that took his breath away.

She sat up, grabbed hold of his clunky right wrist and brought his fingers to her lips. She kissed each and every metal digit in turn, then kissed, nuzzled and rubbed her soft face against the cold back of his hand.

Modo felt his throat draw tight. "Ash..."

Not pausing for a second, Ashlin kissed his wrist for good measure before rising up on her knees, cupping his face and coaxing him to bend forward a little. Her lips found his eye-patch, and she pressed feather-light kisses to it and all around his empty eye socket. His other eye was stinging suspiciously; he hastily squeezed it shut, but that didn't stop the swell of tears from seeping out.

Ashlin noticed and quickly brushed them away, then gripped his shoulders. "Come here," she whispered, as she laid back again.

She drew him down with her, not stopping until his forehead bumped against hers. Her antennas brushed his and he felt everything that was in her heart and mind flooding into him. Love--so much love it left him breathless, and...

And she wasn't just kidding around when she said he was perfect. That was really how she saw him. "You are beautiful, Modo," she whispered as she trailed her fingertips over his face. "And don't you ever let anyone tell you different."

He gave up on fighting back his tears, and he closed his eye as he drew her tightly in his arms and crushed their mouths together. Her tail tightened around him; he coiled his own tail around her waist in return, pulling her against him. Her legs slid up to wrap around his back, her foot lightly caressing his rear.

He pulled away from her mouth long enough to give her another questioning--if teary--look; she nodded quickly. "I want this. I want you. Please..."

Modo clamped his mouth over hers again with a soft moan and pulled her just a little closer--as close as he dared without hurting her--as he lowered his pelvis. Ashlin gasped a little--and then she froze.

Startled, Modo pulled back again. He couldn't have hurt her--they'd only just touched, just barely. But when he looked at her face he saw that she wasn't in pain. Her eyes were focused on something over his shoulder. Her face was a mask of horror.

Realization was slow in coming, but when it finally arrived, he pulled away with an embarrassed yelp. Ashlin jerked her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, while Modo fumbled to shield himself with a pillow.

Because standing in the doorway--the doorway neither of them had ever thought to close--was Tamerin. Casual as anything, she was leaning against the doorframe, one hand resting on her hip. Her expression was completely deadpan--unreadable. The first thought to pop into Modo's muddled head was 'Oh god, she's going to kill me.'

But instead of coming farther into the room, she shifted her weight to the side as she moved one foot back, like she was getting ready to turn away. "You've stayed quiet so far, but can you make sure to keep it that way? I'm going to bed now."

Without waiting for a response--not that either of them had one ready--she turned and walked away. Modo was so stunned, for a moment all he could do was gape at the empty hallway.

And then Ashlin pushed him. Just a little bit--just enough to give her room to roll over onto her side, where she curled up in a tight ball with her arms crossed over her head. She was so embarrassed she was trembling.

His heart aching for her, Modo tossed the pillow aside and started to reach for her, but she recoiled. "Just go away," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears.

"But--"

"Please," she begged. "Please, just go."

Putting his jeans back on was a challenge, but he managed, though his numb fingers fumbled with the snap. He gave up and left it open as he grabbed the rest of his things and stepped out into the hall. As soon as he was clear of the doorway, he heard Ashlin bolt up behind him and hit the keypad. The door swished shut and clunked as it locked.

Modo hastily dropped his things and pressed his hands to the cool metal of the door. On the other side he heard movement as Ashlin got back into bed, followed by a heavy silence. He pressed one ear to the door: was she crying? He couldn't tell. She better not be.

Though one thing was for sure right now, he thought darkly. The next time he saw Tamerin, the first thing he was going to do was strangle her.


	5. Chapter 5

Vinnie whistled quietly to himself as he put his tools away under his workbench. It had grown late, and for once he had talked Charley into bringing whatever work was left home and finishing it up here; they could always bring everything back in the morning. Still whistling, he wiped his hands off and turned out the lights before heading to the main room of the place he called home. It was kind of small, but that just made it all the cozier. Charley had added all sorts of little touches in recent weeks; small pictures of her family and friends back on Earth on various surfaces, soft drapes that hung along the walls and added a sense of warmth to the room, rugs in the floor and colorful cushions on the furniture.

His wife was currently sitting on the plump loveseat, with her knees curled up to her chest as she leaned against the arm. She was reading by the light of the lamp on the nearby end table, soft shadows touching the curve of her face. Vinnie took a moment to take in how pretty she looked right now--not that she ever looked any other way. But she looked more gorgeous than ever lately, what with her hair growing out and framing her face. It hung a little past her jawline now and the ends were layered slightly, making each strand sway breezily whenever she turned her head.

There were no other lights on besides the one next to the loveseat, leaving the rest of the room in shadow. Nice and intimate. "Work is done," Vinnie announced, as he unceremoniously dropped beside her, making her bounce in place from the impact. "Time to play."

Charley snorted and turned a page. "Dream on, tough guy. I'm still recovering from last night."

Undaunted, Vinnie scooted closer, until he was leaning against her side, his cheek pressed to her hair. "Pretty please?" he said sweetly. "Don't worry about leaving all the work up to me. I can handle it."

With a small whimper, Charley closed her book and rubbed between her eyes. "Is there a law somewhere saying that we have to make love almost every night?"

"Not to mention a few times a day," Vinnie added cheekily. "Why not? Pretty much everyone else we know is just as bad."

Except for Throttle, of course. Poor guy was probably having an intimate moment with his right hand that very minute.

Vinnie edged just a little closer to his wife and pressed a kiss to her soft cheek. Charley smiled a little, but she shied away. "Vinnie," she said, voice pleading, "I love you, but I'm exhausted and there's a ton of work to tackle in the morning."

"Let's take a vacation," the eager mouse suggested. "We could leave Vector with Modo, pack a lunch, ride out to somewhere safe and private in the desert..."

"Daddy," a small voice suddenly called.

Grunting, Vinnie pulled away from Charley. "You're supposed to be in bed," he scolded.

But as he focused on the little white mouse standing in the nearby hallway, he instantly regretted his harsh tone. Vector had his blanket grasped tightly in his tiny fist, while his other fist was rubbing one of his dark eyes. His cheeks were damp and matted with tears. "Bad dweam," he said, sniffling piteously.

His heart melting into a puddle of fatherly goo, Vinnie fairly leaped off the couch and scooped his son into his arms. "It's okay, big guy," he cooed, "Daddy will come stay with you until you fall back to sleep. And if any more bad guys show up, he'll blow them away. Okay?"

Vector sniffled again as he wrapped his short arms around his father's neck as far as he could reach and laid his head on his shoulder. "'Kay."

Chuckling, Vinnie patted his back. "That's my boy."

He made a show of checking around Vector's room, opening his toy chest and peeking under the dresser...with his blaster drawn. Vector stood in his crib and watched him closely, frequently wiping his teary eyes. He and Charley had moved Vector from his old cradle to a nice big crib months ago, and since he was still pretty small neither of them thought it was a good idea to move him to a real bed any time soon, even though he would be turning two in a few months. Despite his size, he had rapidly budding motor skills and refused to stay in his crib if he didn't want to. Wary of his habit of climbing out at any given time, Vinnie made sure that the floor surrounding the crib was always covered in soft toys and cushions.

Vector wasn't interested in going anywhere right now, and he stood hunkered down so only his eyes showed over the spot where his little fingers were curled over the rail of the crib. This wasn't the first time this had happened. It was normal, Charley said. Everybody has bad dreams sometimes, even sweet little mice. It bothered Vinnie--a lot--because it wasn't a problem he could physically drive away.

No, all he could do was comfort his frightened little son after the fact, and he lowered the rail and tenderly tucked him under the blanket. He then knelt down next to the crib and rested his head on his folded arms, watching as his son slowly grew sleepy. When his droopy little eyelids closed and stayed that way, Vinnie softly kissed his cheek and quietly put the rail back in place. He expected Charley to be asleep by now too, but when he returned to the loveseat she was sitting up and munching on a piece of fruit. "What's that?" he asked as he sat beside her again.

Her mouth full, Charley cocked a red-brown eyebrow at him. "Don't you know?" she asked after swallowing.

Vinnie took a sniff; whatever it was, it was sweet and extra juicy. The skin was pinkish, the leaves hanging from the short stem blue. "I give up."

Charley snorted and noisily took another bite. "I don't have a clue either. But then, I'm not from this planet."

Vinnie just shrugged, unconcerned, and casually snaked an arm around her waist. "You know there's only three things I know about for sure," he reminded her slyly. "Riding my bike, blowing things up, and..."

He leaned closer, his mouth aiming for hers. Charley suddenly hopped up; he nearly lost his balance and fell face-first onto the cushions. "You want a bite?" she asked. "I'll cut you a slice."

"Uh, that wasn't really the point I was trying to reach."

Mildly irritated, Vinnie got up and followed Charley to the kitchen, where she deftly sliced the pink fruit in half with a long knife. "Here," she offered crisply, holding out the half free of bite-marks. Not that Vinnie cared. He had no problem whatsoever with sharing his Charley-girl's germs. "I'm not hungry," he responded, just as crisply. "Well, not for fruit, anyway."

Charley shrugged, nonchalant, and shoved the half-eaten portion in her other hand into her mouth. With her free hand she grabbed the knife, tossed it into the air and caught it. Vinnie felt his eyebrows lift. "Good thing Vector's sleeping," he noted dryly. "Mommy's setting a bad example."

Charley just chuckled around her mouthful of fruit, which she noisily chewed and swallowed down, then casually licked her juice-stained lips. Vinnie watched this innocent-yet-sexual display with narrowed eyes. "Are you going to come willingly to the bedroom? Or am I going to have to carry you?"

Charley glanced at him, then lifted the knife again, expertly balancing the tip of the blade on one finger--a talent Vinnie had no idea she possessed--before letting it drop and catching it by the blade. With another glance at him, she tossed the remaining piece of fruit up into the air as she drew her other hand back. The next thing Vinnie knew, the knife was embedded in the far wall, perfectly impaling the slice of fruit.

Vinnie's jaw just about hit the floor. "Wha...?"

His wife merely smiled, as if she'd just done something completely normal, and proceeded to suck any remaining juice off her fingers. "I saw it in a movie once."

* * *

Modo tossed and turned for most of the night before he finally dozed off around dawn. He woke up a little while later to the sound of silence. He quickly slipped out of bed, tiptoed down the hall and pressed his ear to Ashlin's door, but there was no hint of movement on the other side. He listened for a moment more, then crept back to his room, where he threw on fresh jeans and an old denim jacket with the sleeves ripped off before riding over to Second Chance Garage.

He had just finished parking outside by the corner when he saw an unmistakable ghostly white figure step out of the main doors, a set of bike handlebars propped on her shoulder. Setting his teeth, Modo dismounted and strode quickly across the yard. As he drew near, Tamerin set the unfinished bike part down and grabbed a glass bottle from where it rested on a nearby table, which she brought to her lips as she went to lean her back against the wall by the front door.

When he reached her, Modo slammed his open hand against the wall above her shoulder as he leaned over her. He always thought it was kind of creepy when he saw a guy do that to a girl--it was such an invasion of personal space--but he wanted to make it abundantly clear that even though he knew she could knock him out with one hand, he was still bigger than she was. He wasn't going to be intimidated.

"Just what the blazes was that about last night?"

Tamerin had her lips around the mouth of the bottle. One snowy eyebrow cocking, she took her time swallowing her mouthful of fruit juice before responding. "'Blazes?'"

Modo felt his ears burn. "My mama taught me never to curse," he informed her, teeth clenched. "And that's _not_ the issue here."

Apparently unfazed by his loosely contained anger, Tamerin snickered for a moment. "I don't curse much myself," she noted, casual as anything. "Ironically, my own mama swears like a sailor."

Modo rubbed his teeth together until they squeaked. "Are you gonna answer me?" he asked, in his lowest, most dangerous voice. "Ashlin is so embarrassed she won't talk to me. She won't even come out of her room."

Tamerin took another sip. "She'll get over it."

Appalled, Modo pushed away from the wall and stared down at the ex-military woman. What happened to the person who was always so protective and careful of Ashlin and her feelings? Giving his head a shake, he opened his mouth to speak--and then Tamerin reached up, gripped the front of his jacket and jerked him forward until they were nose to nose.

"I don't think you quite grasp the situation here," she began, her low tone matching the one he had used moments ago. He actually felt a chill. "I'm letting you off this time since you stopped, but if you _ever_ try to put your dick into my baby girl again, I'm going to slice it off and shove it so far up your butt, it'll be weeks before you see it again."

Grimacing, he pulled back; she let go and watched him step away, her expression bland. His anger returning all over again, Modo snapped, "That ain't your decision to make."

She lifted both eyebrows now, like she couldn't fathom what he meant. "Oh?"

"Ashlin might be small, but she's still an adult. What she and I do together is our business."

Tamerin pursed her lips. "I used to diaper that little girl's bottom," she reminded him.

"That doesn't matter," Modo cried. "She not a child anymore. She's more than old enough to know what's best for her and what she wants, and you have no right to try and make a decision like this for her."

He started to say more, but Tamerin suddenly stood up straighter, leaning to the side a little and cupping her hand to her ear, like she was listening to something. "Hey--you hear that?"

Modo made a face. "No. What--"

"No, really. I think it's an echo."

Modo opened his mouth--then closed it so hard his teeth clacked. All of a sudden he understood. This had nothing to do with him, or Ashlin, or anything to do with what had happened last night. Irritation rippled clear down to his toes. "Now _that_ ," he said lowly, "is _not_ your business."

"It's very much my business," Tamerin responded coolly. "She's my mother."

Grunting, he gave his head a shake. "But that...it's..."

"Different?" she supplied dryly.

'Yes,' he wanted to say, but couldn't now. Not without sounding like a huge hypocrite.

Tamerin was shaking her head at him. One fingernail tapped against the bottle still in her hand. "You know, I bet it never occurred to you that the concept of _your_ nephew and _my_ mother is a little weird for me, too."

Modo didn't respond as he sheepishly glanced at his boots. She was right--that _hadn't_ ever occurred to him. "But you know what?" she went on. "I got over it. And do you know why?"

He shook his head. "Because when my father died, my mother all but died with him. She stopped living--she just existed. There was no life, no joy inside her. But when she met Rimfire, all that changed. Now she's so full of life, and so happy...I'd be a pretty awful daughter to resent that. I'm glad for her--and I'm grateful to Rimfire."

She grew quiet, though her eyes continued to look at him hard as she brought the bottle to her lips again. Modo let out a slow sigh. "Just what do you expect me to do?"

She shrugged. "That's up to you. You can either come to terms with what he's done, or you can continue to avoid him for the rest of your life."

Modo frowned hard. The two of them had barely spoken since the day he found out what his nephew had done. The thought of never speaking to him again made his heart sink like a stone. "I don't think I'm ready to 'come to terms,'" he mumbled. "And what if things don't work out?"

Tamerin gave him a curious look. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged uncertainly. "You know. It's not like a relationship between two of your people. More than death can come between them. What then?"

Tamerin studied him for a moment, then set her empty bottle aside and folded her arms. "I don't want that to happen," she said quietly, "but whatever happens between the two of them is their business. It's up to them to decide what to do and how to handle it, not you."

"Yeah, but...don't they execute somebody for breakin' it off?"

Now she looked surprised. "No. We only have laws in place to protect weaker females vulnerable to assault, but it's never actually happened--thank goodness. And as I'm sure you know, a relationship breaking apart is something new to us, since no one has ever mated outside the species before. But again, that's between the two of them, and I sincerely doubt my mother will demand to have Rimfire decapitated or something if things go sour between them. He loves her completely, so it could never be a case of taking advantage of her and then running. Besides, we're on Mars, so we're abiding by Martian law now, not ours."

"Oh."

Well, that was certainly a load off his mind. But Tamerin didn't look satisfied yet. "You'll try talking to him about it, right?" she pressed. "We're all family now. I don't want this coldness to continue."

Modo thought about it for a long moment. "Okay," he finally relented, though he didn't promise that things would smooth over between them. "And you'll apologize to Ash, right?" he added firmly.

She nodded. "Of course. I don't have the least problem with you two being together, you know. What's right is right. And I know you'll never hurt her."

Or ever let anyone else hurt her, he added silently. Never again.

He felt a little better now, even though the idea of facing his nephew after avoiding each other for months left him uneasy. His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Tamerin's eyes were studying his expression closely. "Does the difference in age really bother you that much?" she suddenly wondered.

"That's part of it," he admitted.

"I'm older than Throttle, you know," she pointed out, in a tone that clearly questioned why he didn't have a problem with that.

"Maybe so," Modo allowed, "but it ain't nearly as big a difference. Plus Throttle is older than Rimfire and knows better what he's gettin' into."

He paused, but Tamerin didn't say anything, so he continued--cautiously. "Though there is that other thing," he said quietly. "Rimfire's gonna grow old someday. And if nothin' ever happens to him on duty, he'll die of natural causes. Bevra-ma'am won't do either."

Tamerin looked at him silently for a long moment. A soft smile suddenly touched her lips. "It's the same for me and Throttle," she reminded him. "It isn't a problem for us."

"You don't mind that he's not gonna stay young and pretty forever, like you?" Modo wondered.

Tamerin gave her head a shake. "How he looks on the outside won't change who he is on the inside. I'll still love him just the same."

"But..."

But there was one more thing that worried him--something that he had only heard about in passing once or twice, but it had stuck out in his mind. "Don't you Imeerans usually, um, not handle it so well when your mate passes on without you?"

"No need to mince words," Tamerin said, with a wry smile. "It's very common for the shock of losing a mate to kill us--and yes, I can see where you're headed with this. You're wondering what's going to happen to me and my mother once our Martian mates head to the next world. Honestly, who can say? My mother survived losing my father after nearly two hundred years with him, so she might live on after losing Rimfire, when the time comes. I might live on when Throttle's time comes--or I might not."

She gave a shrug. "Right now I can't imagine being without him, or ever caring about someone else. I don't _want_ to think about it, but I'll tell you this much: I haven't lived as long as some, but I've lived long enough to know that being immortal isn't all it's cracked up to be. If I'm only meant to have a life as long as Throttle's--a life that's full of joy--then I'm perfectly content with that. This might sound a little strange, but I actually find the thought of leaving this world when he does a comforting one. Almost like our souls our tied together forever, no matter what."

Modo considered this for a moment. "You think your mama feels the same way?" he wondered.

At this Tamerin scoffed and ran a hand over her forehead, her fingers combing through her hair. "I'm the wrong person to ask what's going on in my mother's head," she muttered. "The last conversation we had that was longer than two or three syllables was when she tossed my last promotion at me."

"Sounds like I'm not the only one who needs to mend a bridge or two," Modo pointed out wryly.

Tamerin made a grunting sound and turned away. "One at a time, big guy. And I should really get back to work now."

"Me too." Modo paused as he thought of something. "But if you two haven't spoken much lately, then why...?"

Tamerin flashed him a sheepish smile. "You didn't see me, but I was lurking around the garage the other night. I saw her and Rimfire pass by here, and...well, I didn't like the look on your face."

"And so you decided to do something about it," Modo finished dryly. "Would it do any good to say that I don't like you jammin' your nose in my business like that?"

"Knowing me? Probably not."

"Thought so."


	6. Chapter 6

After taking Michio to school for the day, Throttle swallowed huge yawns as he rode to work. Last night--make that all of yesterday--had felt weird. He and Tamerin didn't speak once, and she'd left work early to spend the night at Modo's. He and Mitch (who had already beguiled his way out of any punishment) had spent the evening alone, which was fine, but bedtime had been so...lonely. He had felt blanketed by silence in that empty bedroom, and he found himself wishing that Tamerin was home sleeping on the couch or something, close enough where he could feel the touch of her mind as he went to sleep.

She had been too far away for that, and he had slept fitfully as a result. Yawning again, he parked his bike outside the garage and took a moment to push his specs up and rub his eyes. He was just starting to dismount when he heard a voice call out to him--a voice both eager and cheerful.

"Hey, bro! How's it goin'?"

Surprised, Throttle turned around. "It's, um, going."

A few months ago, if he had heard that voice and then turned around to see the figure behind him, he would never have matched the two up. In fact, there was still a small level of disbelief as he watched the shadow-skinned, white-haired Imeeran hurrying toward him. Tamerin's younger brother wasn't someone who handed out his trust easily, but once you won him over...it was like he transformed into a different person.

"You look a little worn out," Jayce noted, absently stuffing his hands into the pockets of the shiny red jacket he was wearing.

"Rough night."

Dark red eyes narrowed at him. "You and Tam didn't have a fight, did you?"

Throttle snorted quietly; it would probably be easier if that was all it was. Then they'd be having makeup sex by now. "Nah. It's just that time to avoid each other again."

Jayce's expression immediately turned sympathetic. "Ah. It's tough, isn't it? Dee and I knew we'd have to set our resolve like titanium if we were going to stick to our agreement to keep it to just the two of us for a few years."

Throttle gave him a blank look. "You two had that agreement?"

"Of course," Jayce said, snickering. "Couldn't you tell?"

"Um, considering that she's almost two months pregnant? Not really."

"We were going to behave--honest. But then we woke up one morning to find that her fertility cycle had just started, and...well, it was just too much for us."

Throttle felt his eyes widen behind his specs--he'd never thought of that. So far they'd been lucky and Tam's cycle had started during the day, but it didn't run like clockwork. What if next time it started while they were asleep, and they woke up in each other's arms surrounded by that scent?

He must have had a pretty strange look on his face, because Jayce snickered again. "Sorry, am I scaring you?"

"Sort of. But Tam's good about keeping track of her cycle schedule," he went on--mostly to reassure himself. "She starts keeping her distance when she knows it's coming up. One of us should start sleeping on the couch a few days in advance, just to be safe."

Jayce let out a sigh. "Now why didn't we think of that? But such are the trials of me being so young and inexperienced," he lamented.

Throttle just smirked, knowing that he and Deichan were actually thrilled about their future addition. Not to mention Jayce had more than earned his sudden promotion to general. He had saved hundreds of lives over the course of his military career and was revered as a true hero. "You'll learn. But seriously, why the sudden visit?"

"Just for the fun of it. There's no joyriding back home, so I thought I'd drop by and thrash sand for a while. You still have my bike, right?"

"It's in the back room, where we store all the finished bikes," Throttle instructed.

Shortly after everyone had settled into their new homes here on Mars, Jayce had dropped by to visit his sister--and had immediately grown jealous of the speed the locals got to travel with. Charley had promptly introduced him to her vast collection of parts, and the two of them had thrown together a custom bike whose design was part Martian, part Earthling, and several parts which Throttle had no clue to the origins of.

While Jayce ran off, Throttle headed reluctantly into the main part of the garage, which was full of loud music and a plethora of smells that made his nose twitch--the kind of smells that relaxed and soothed him. Unfortunately, even under the layers of oil and grease, he still detected the faintest hint of his mate.

It wasn't fresh, so it must have been a while since she passed through here, and wherever she was now, it was too far away for him to feel her. Neither Vinnie or Charley was in sight, though there was the sound of clanking and happy chatter coming from another part of the garage, and Modo was working on something on the bench at the back of the room.

"You busy?" the gray mouse wondered as Throttle went over to his locker to get his tools and task list for the day.

"Oh, sure," Throttle said, as he covered another yawn, "I've got so much to keep me occupied right now I don't even remember what free time feels like."

Modo snickered for a moment. "Thought so. You wanna grab Vinnie when we're done here and go hang out at Conrad's tonight?"

"You mean, stuff our faces and chug root beer till we're seeing spots? Sounds like a plan."

Looking pleased, Modo picked up a wrench and twirled it for a moment, his brow lining slightly in concentration--and then the front door opened and Ashlin scurried in. Throttle wasn't sure why, but Modo dropped the wrench with a bang and all but ran to put his arms around her. He knew _they_ couldn't have had a fight--those two didn't so much as disagree about toothpaste--but it almost looked like they were making up about something.

"I'm okay," Ashlin said, as Modo cupped her face and brushed his thumbs over her furry cheeks. "Tam talked to me this morning before you woke up. She didn't mean anything by it--she just wanted to make sure she got your attention."

"She could've found a way to do it that didn't involve you," Modo grumbled.

Throttle, who had grabbed his toolbox and was about to get to work, paused to listen. He had been wondering what kind of night Tamerin had had without him...but he wasn't curious enough to interrupt and ask what this was about.

"It was part of her point. Please don't be mad at her," Ashlin told him, her gentle voice pleading. "It's just her hormones--they make her kind of crazy."

"Well, as long as she's sorry, I guess."

He continued to hold her, and Ashlin reached up to slip her arms around his neck as she raised her face to kiss him. Throttle, feeling a sharp pang of jealousy, started to look away--and then his eye fell on the glinting silver band on Ashlin's wrist. An idea suddenly popped into his mind, and he quietly set his toolbox down and waited.

"What are you doin' in here this early?" Modo asked when the two broke apart again...though only far enough to speak.

"To see you, of course," Ashlin said tartly. "I'm not going to hide at home until dark every day. I'm going to come see you whenever I want."

They continued to speak in quiet tones--Modo worrying about her walking around alone and Ashlin assuring him that she was fine--while Throttle waited impatiently for them to finish. "I was gonna head out this evenin' with the boys," Modo told her, though he sounded like he was ready to change his mind.

"That's fine," Ashlin responded quickly, "I plan to take Ako and spend the day with your mom. You go ahead and have fun."

Modo still looked unsure about something. "But about last night..."

Ashlin silenced him with another kiss. "We'll talk about that later," she whispered, blushing.

She finally let go, glancing in embarrassment at Throttle, who discreetly beckoned to her while Modo returned to his workbench. Looking curious, Ashlin joined Throttle by the lockers. "What's up?"

"Just a quick favor. Do you mind if I borrow your communicator for a little while?"

Surprised, Ashlin looked down at the slender band around her right wrist. "I suppose, but aren't there already plenty of forms of communication around here?" she wondered.

"Yes, but Tamerin only has this kind. And you know how it is right now," he went on, as the small Martian gave him a funny look. "It isn't a good idea for us to get too close. I can't so much as ask her how she's doing."

A knowing smile spread across Ashlin's face. "So you want to tell her you love her long distance? That's so sweet."

She handed the wristband over and hopped to kiss his cheek before scampering out of the garage. "Thanks, sis," he called after her.

Dear, sweet, naive little sis.

Modo was concentrating on whatever it was he was working on, so he didn't pay any attention as Throttle slipped by him and ducked into a nearby storage closet. It was lined with cluttered shelves, and there was a table piled with tools and broken parts at the back, with a small chair tucked off to one side. After securely locking the door from the inside, Throttle spun the chair with his foot and dropped into it, letting it prop back against the wall behind it.

As he pressed the button that would link him to Tamerin's communicator, his mind was already roaring into overdrive. He pictured her in here with him, perched on the nearby table--naked. Or maybe she'd kneel on the floor in front of him, right between his open knees, her hands on his thighs and a smile on her face as she reached to do what she had done for him the other night...

With a quiet exhale of breath, Throttle absently set his specs aside and leaned his head back, slipping a hand behind to support it...not that he planned to keep it there long. The wrist com was too small for him to wear, so he continued to hold it in his other hand; there was a quiet beep as the link was made. He promptly asked, in his huskiest voice, "What are you wearing?"

He was greeted by silence. When Tamerin finally spoke, her tone was both dry and confused. "Clothes. What are you doing with Ashlin's communicator?"

Throttle let out a frustrated grunt. "Borrowing it so I can talk to you, of course. It's not like we can say much to each other face to face right now. I'm lonely without you."

There was a pause, and when she spoke again he could hear the soft smile in her voice. "I miss you too. And it's nice to hear your voice, even if I can't see you."

Throttle felt the same way. He wished she was at least close enough so he could feel and not just hear her smile--and he especially wanted to feel how excited he was about to make her. But wherever she was, he couldn't pick up the faintest trace of her.

Undaunted, he plunged ahead. "You know," he began, dropping his voice again, "if you were here with me right now, the first thing I'd do is bend you over this table and do you from behind."

Tamerin made an unhappy sound. "Throttle, that's just mean," she said, sounding irritated. "You know we can't, so why torture ourselves talking about it?"

She let out a huff before he could answer and hurried on. "I've managed to stay comfortably unaroused since yesterday, but now you're ruining that, thank you very much."

"But that's the whole idea," Throttle pointed out, feeling a little surprised that she hadn't figured that out yet. "It's perfectly safe to get aroused until it hurts, since we aren't anywhere near each other and won't be tempted."

Another pause. "I fail to see the point," Tamerin stated dryly. "I've got about five more days left to endure lingering bouts of excitement, so I don't see any reason to make it worse when I still can't alleviate the tension with you."

"Uh, that _is_ the point," Throttle said, with equal dryness. She was acting like she'd never heard of this kind of intimacy before. "I think," he went on, as he shifted his free hand to the side of his neck, "we'll start with you running your hand all over my chest." He loved it when she ran her fingers through his fur, especially on his sensitive torso. "And then--"

"But I'm not."

Groaning softly, Throttle dropped his face into his hand and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Tam," he said wearily, "I think you're completely failing to grasp the basic fundamentals of telecommunicative sex."

"Apparently I am. What purpose is it supposed to serve other than to frustrate us while we talk about the things we can't do right now?"

"Um, it's _supposed_ to turn us both on, until we're ready to indulge in a little DIY. And then we do. Together, but...not together. You get it now?"

He heard a drumming sound for a moment, like Tamerin was tapping her fingers on something. "I think I do," she finally said. 

"You really never heard of this before?" Throttle wondered.

"No. Cut me and my flawed little species a break, please. We're only a thousand years old, and we've only been venturing out to other worlds more frequently for the last fifty or so. We don't exactly know everything there is to know."

"Oh. Well, you know about this now, so..."

Tamerin breathed a heavy sigh. "So," she echoed, "if you need to, uh, cope with a little DIY, be my guest. But I'm not going to torture myself standing here listening to you do it."

"You're not supposed to," Throttle said, exasperated now. "You're supposed to join in."

He heard her grumble in annoyance. "Throttle, my darling angel...if we Imeerans could utilize that kind of technique, do you _really_ think we'd suffer through fertility the way we do?"

"Um...are you trying to tell me you can't?"

"Exactly. I doubt I have to remind you that our bodies only respond to our mates, and _only_ our mates. Unmated Imeerans don't usually have much of a problem--they rarely get excited enough to need to worry about it, but when we're mated it's another story. Males have it easy; so long as their mate isn't around, they don't get aroused, period. For females it's the same way--except when we're fertile, of course. And it's not like I can trick my body or something. It would know that it isn't you touching me, so I'd probably just irritate my skin and make my hand sore."

With a long sigh, Throttle let his hand drop and his head thump back against the wall. "So you really can't? Not even a little?"

"Nope. We're just not designed that way. And no, I'm not going to try and see. I've heard that some of our predecessors tried to test it out once or twice and wound up feeling sick as a result. Blame our creators--they're the ones who screwed up our physiology so badly. I've got to go now, all right? We'll talk later."

She cut the connection before he had a chance to say goodbye. Sighing again, Throttle got up and trudged out of the storage closet. Sure, it was tempting to stay and continue his plan without her...but now that he knew she didn't have that option, it seemed a little unfair. If she had to tough it out like this, then so could he. At least, he hoped he could.

He absently handed Modo Ashlin's communicator as he passed by the workbench. Modo paused and gave him a funny look as he took it. "Don't ask," Throttle warned. "Don't even think about asking."

* * *

Tamerin noisily blew air through her hair as she looked over at the Martian dwelling stretching before her in the distance. She had been standing here procrastinating for at least ten minutes when Throttle suddenly beeped her, and she had been glad for the distraction--for about five seconds. She'd actually managed to wipe thoughts of sex from her mind this morning, but thanks to Throttle's foolhardy--if well intentioned--plan, that was spoiled now. She wanted to head in to talk to her mother with a clear and calm mind, not a mind swamped with images of her mate's delicious naked body.

But she knew that she'd still be out here hesitating even without her wandering thoughts. After her talk with Modo, she came to realize that this was something she needed to do...no matter how much she would hate it. Really, the thought of trying to talk to her mother was a joke, but she didn't have the heart to tell Modo that. She had made an effort to reach out to her mother countless times over the last thirty years and had been brushed aside every time. Like she wasn't important enough to bother with.

She was sure this latest attempt would only result in more of the same, but she was still going to do what she came here to do; tell her mother that she accepted her decision to take a new mate. She didn't really know Rimfire all that well--they couldn't have said more than two words to each other since she'd moved to Mars and they'd only had a handful of brief conversations prior to that--but if her mother loved him, then he had to be more than a little special. And she'd spoken honestly today; she didn't have a problem with them being together, and she really was grateful that he'd somehow made her mother happy again. But did that mean her mother would react to her words any differently than she had any of the other times she tried to speak to her from daughter to mother instead of one officer to another? Tamerin wasn't going to bother wasting her time hoping. No, she had no doubt that her mother would shrug and wave her away with a deadpan expression, just like all the other times.

She wasn't looking forward to it, but she knew the sooner she got it over with the better, and so she steeled herself and took a step forward--just as the front door of the dwelling swished open. Cowardly as she knew it was, she hastily leaped back and ducked behind the shelter of the corner of a nearby building. She peered cautiously out and watched as Rimfire stepped outside--heading out for patrol duty, no doubt.

Her mother came to see him off...though during moments like this, Tamerin was barely able to think of her as her mother, she was such a stranger. She was warm and tender and overflowing with love--love that spilled out all over the young mouse she was clinging to. She ran her fingers through his hair and nuzzled his face and peppered his mouth with kisses, all the while whispering adoring words and pleading with him to come home safely.

She never acted like that with anyone before, not even Tamerin's father. Especially not Tamerin's father. He had been brave and capable and loving, but not the kind of guy you smothered with kisses and cuddling. Not that she had ever pictured her mother _wanting_ to cuddle and smother someone with kisses, and yet here she was. Tamerin could only assume it was because Rimfire was so young, and because even though his body was hard and strong, he was still highly vulnerable to injury.

Whatever the cause, her mother pampered him-- _pampered_ him. And Rimfire stood silently as he held her, giving off the air that he was patiently weathering the storm...though Tamerin could tell by the look in his eyes that he secretly loved every second of it.

When the two finally broke apart and Rimfire left, Tamerin tensed, but no. Her mother didn't notice her as she turned and went back inside. Judging by the relaxed, almost dreamy expression on her face and the way she carried herself, she didn't have to worry about abstinence right now. But Tamerin suddenly realized that the two of them were in the same boat--neither of them would ever get to experience the greatest pleasure an Imeeran female could possibly have. Well, her mother had actually experienced it twice in the past, but she never would again, and that was almost the same thing.

It was a well known Imeeran fact, but Deichan had reiterated it to her shortly after conceiving her future child: making love during fertility was an experience that defied description. Deichan had called it 'divine,' but stressed that this was underselling it. When a female was fertile, every last cell of her body was hyper-sensitive--especially the erogenous areas. Tamerin had heard some females say that having sex when she was fertile was so intense they actually worried that that much pleasure could somehow be lethal--that the pure ecstasy of it was going to drive their souls so far out of their bodies they would never come back down from the heavens. Not that they had cared at the time.

If the hyper-sensitivity wasn't enough, their minds opened up to their mate like no other time, taking them inside-- _completely_ inside, until every last thought, every emotion, every breath was in perfect synchronized harmony. Many females said that it felt like they stopped being aware that they were two separate beings, like until they broke apart they were truly a single body and mind...and Deichan had concurred.

If that was what it was really like, Tamerin didn't wonder how some females wound up getting addicted to motherhood. It hadn't been like that since before the war, but now that it was over, she imagined that numerous females would be leaving any form of active duty and staying home with her growing brood, which would be added to practically every time her fertility cycle rolled around.

Tamerin was a little sad she would never get to experience this for herself, and it was only a small comfort to know that her mother shared this burden, since she'd already enjoyed conceiving two children. And how exactly is this clearing your mind of sex? she asked herself sarcastically. Sometime she'd like to take her brain and drop-kick it into the sun.

Huffing, she gave herself a shake and marched out of hiding, heading straight for the closed door and pressing the buzzer to announce herself. She expected her mother to come let her in, but instead she heard her call from somewhere inside, "Took you long enough."

Setting her teeth, Tamerin waited until the burning sensation left her white cheeks before heading inside. So she'd known she was lurking around outside the whole time and said nothing--just waiting for her to get it together. This was the part she hated the most about being around her mother. During her military career she had climbed the ranks clear to the top, fought tooth and nail on the battlefield and lost almost a dozen body parts, and kept far more of her men alive than she had lost...and yet when she was around her mother, she still somehow managed to feel like a little girl. Unsure of herself and anxious for approval. Weak.

It was a horrible feeling, and she tried not to let it show as she strode up to the living room couch and looked at her mother. Which was, in more ways than one, like looking in a mirror.

Their skin was the same shade, even if hers was a little duller, and their faces were virtually the same. Granted, Imeerans didn't have a very wide variety of facial features and structures to begin with. Most males had square or rectangular faces, while most females had either diamond, oval, or heart-shaped faces. All part of their grand--boring--design. She and her mother both had oval-shaped faces, plus the same high cheekbones, the same slim noses, the same arch to their eyebrows. The main difference was that her mother's face was a little longer...and somehow more mature. Like any Imeeran, she had stopped aging around age twenty, but there was a wisdom in her features that gave the illusion that she had somehow worked her way to thirty. Tamerin was lucky if she felt twenty-two.

They even wore their hair the same way--in an exaggerated side part, with no bangs. Not to mention how they dressed, both of them having a preference for wearing black on a day to day basis, though her mother, like Jayce, liked to add a splash of vibrant red to her wardrobe. Today she had on snug black shorts and a breezy red silk top, with spaghetti straps and a ruffle along the neckline. She was lying back flipping through a newspaper, her feet bare and propped on a pillow, ankles crossed. "You know what the biggest difference between real paper and the data pads we use back on Malteria is?" she asked, casual as anything as Tamerin came closer and continued to look down at her.

Tamerin shrugged. "The smell?" she guessed.

"Precisely."

Tamerin expected her to set the newspaper down and look at her, but instead her mother took a moment to sniff the page before turning it, her amber eyes darting back and forth as she drunk in the words. Well, thanks for making this easy, Mom.

Small talk was a waste of time, so Tamerin absently slipped her hands into her jacket pockets as she dove right in. "I just thought I'd drop by to tell you how I feel about you and Rimfire being together."

That at least made her mother pause, though she only briefly glanced away from her newspaper. "Oh?"

"I felt kind of funny about it at first, but...I'm over it. I've seen how much he loves you, and he treats you with nothing but respect. I'm glad you two have each other, and that you're so happy now."

She spoke a little quicker than she'd meant to, but...that was all right. It was out there now. She expected her mother to react in some way--maybe even to smile--but all she did was adjust her hold on her newspaper and say, "We never needed your approval."

Tamerin barely withheld a growl of frustration as she tugged her hands from her pockets; her fists balled. "I knew I was wasting my time even _trying_ to talk to you," she snapped.

"Then why did you?" her mother asked calmly, eyes still glued to the paper.

Tamerin let out a grunt and turned her own eyes skyward for a moment. "Oh, I don't know--maybe I went completely crazy and thought that my own mother would actually be concerned about my opinion for a change. Maybe I thought that the fact that I'm okay with how our family has changed would make you happy. And maybe--just maybe--I thought that now that you and I are just normal citizens, _maybe_ some of your frostiness would finally thaw around me, like it does for him."

Her mother finally set her newspaper down and sat up, looking at her squarely as she did...and Tamerin wished that she hadn't. Her expression was dry, her eyes quietly accusing. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous."

Tamerin felt her cheeks burn again, and for far from the first time in her life she wished that she didn't have a skin tone that made blushing so painfully obvious. Girls like Deichan looked pink and cute when they were embarrassed. She looked like she had smeared berry juice all over her face. "No," she said sharply...then paused to think about it for a moment.

"Yes, actually," she amended. "I guess I am. Can you blame me? You stopped being mother to me and Jayce the day Dad died, and you've never said a single word about anything we've done since. Never a congratulations for a job well done, or for starting families of our own, or-- _anything_. And then some kid comes along and you suddenly turn into a pile of loving mush around him? Yeah, I'd say I've earned the right to be just a little jealous. I'd have to be completely unfeeling not to be--and I know your opinion of how much I feel about everything."

As soon as the words were spoken, Tamerin felt her heart drop inside her. Maybe that was exactly the problem, here. Her mother had always disapproved, even before the war began, of how emotional and empathetic she was. Her mother never said a thing in regards to her anymore, but that was probably far from the last thing she disapproved of.

"That's it, isn't it?" she heard herself say quietly. "Even after all I've done, I'm never going to be good enough, am I? Not in your eyes."

This was the other horrible feeling she got around her mother--not measuring up. So she'd been a general for a little while...so what? She'd quit in less than a day, while her mother had commanded her men for decades. Her mother had five stars, she had none. Did the fact that the war had ended during her brief tour of duty even count for anything?

She wasn't going to ask...and she wasn't going to cry. Her throat had gone thick and her eyes were tight, but she wasn't going to shed a tear. Not here--not in front of _her_. Shaking her head, she turned away.

"Tamerin."

Her mother's voice was quiet, but firm--commanding. It always was, and it made her pause, even though she didn't want to. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother hold out her hand, palm up.

Tamerin felt something odd trickle through her. A flash of memory entered her mind--a memory from thirty years ago. Her father, ever duteous, had gone up to the surface with his team to explore one day, and Jayce had tagged along that morning. Her mother, a private and a nobody, had hugged her worried daughter while assuring her that they would both be back safely in time for lunch. That was the last time she saw her father alive...and the last time her mother touched her.

She didn't bother to hide her apprehension, even as her mother beckoned impatiently. Steeling herself with a sigh, she stretched out her fingertips and rested them on the open palm, planning to tap and run--but her mother would have none of it. The second their skin met, she snatched her fingers up and clutched them firmly in her own. Tamerin caught her breath as her mother's emotions flooded into her.

They carried a rush of feeling she could barely name. It was the feeling of being tucked in at night, of warm arms rocking you to sleep, the sound of a soft voice singing to you wordlessly. It was the smell of sweets cooking in the kitchen, the sound of a baby's first laugh, the brush of flower petals as tiny fingers helped place blossoms into a vase. It was story time and first steps and the deepest, widest, most motherly kind of love--and it seemed to go on and on forever.

And underneath it all was pride. She was so, so proud.

With a quiet smile, her mother kissed her hand tenderly and let go. "Just don't let it go to your head."

Tamerin let out a shaky laugh and wiped her tear-filled eyes. "Not likely, Mom. Not likely."


	7. Chapter 7

_Understand, you'll never be_  
_What they expect_  
_It's out of reach_  
_You're not the kind_  
_To reach that high_  
_It's nothing like you had in mind_  
~Go Away;  Delain

Smirking in amusement, Modo watched as Vinnie tried to line up his next shot, sighting along his outstretched fingers--and then staring between them with a puzzled expression, opening and closing his long digits several times as he squinted. Behind him, Throttle was sniggering to himself as he watched. "Is the dartboard moving, bro?"

"How'd you guess?"

The two of them stifled their laughter--barely--at the white mouse's expense for a moment. "More root beer?" Throttle suggested.

"More root beer," Vinnie echoed eagerly, before taking his turn--and the two of them cackled crazily at the results.

Jayce, who was sitting at a nearby table watching them, echoed their laughter. "What'd the poor wall ever do to you?" he wondered.

Still laughing, Modo turned to the front counter and waved to Conrad. "Another round, my good mouse," he called grandly.

Conrad was a good guy. Even though it was late and everyone aside from the four of them and a group of more serious drinkers had gone home, he continued to linger faithfully at the bar, awaiting more orders. With a shake of his graying head, he sent a waitress over with a fresh batch of root beer, though Jayce turned down the bottle she offered to him. "I think my quota of sugar has been filled for, oh, the next month or so," he noted wryly.

"Eh, I could toss back another dozen easy," mused Vinnie.

"At least," Throttle agreed with a smirk.

Jayce looked at the three of them for a moment, then reached over and plucked the waitress' tray out of her hands. "Mind if I borrow this? I'm going to need a shield for when the pancreases start exploding around here."

The three of them just laughed, popped their bottles open and tossed their heads back; Jayce encouraged them from his post with shouts of 'chug, chug, chug!' They each drained about half a bottle before stopping for air and unleashing a trio of belches in unison. "Modo wins," Jayce announced, before stuffing a handful of salty chips into his mouth.

"Modo always wins," Vinnie complained.

Modo smirked and patted his chest. "All in the diaphragm," he explained.

Throttle downed another mouthful before setting his bottle aside and picking up a handful of darts. "Now, where were we?" he mumbled thoughtfully, tossing a dart up and catching it.

"I think I was kicking both your butts," mused Vinnie, squinting one eye at the board again.

Modo snorted. "He's whoopin' us both by almost two hundred points."

Throttle grinned and nudged his specs up onto his forehead before readying his next move. "What can I say? I've got sharp eyes."

From somewhere behind him, Modo thought he heard someone let out a scoff of disgust. "At least somebody around here does."

All of the humor drained from his face as he jerked his head around, eye narrowed threateningly...but no one in the bar other than Jayce was looking his way. He wasn't sure who had spoken, but those words had better not mean what he thought they meant.

He scanned the dimly lit room with his darkest glare for a moment more before turning back to the game. While he wasn't watching, Throttle had scored two triple rings and another bullseye. "Your turn," he said casually, stepping back.

Jayce, who had taken up the job of scorekeeper, was snickering to himself as he scrawled on the paper in front of him. Clearly, he didn't see much chance of him or Vinnie catching up.

Undaunted, Modo threw back the rest of his root beer before taking his turn. He squarely scored twenty points with his first shot, barely missed scoring a double ring with his second...and skewered the outer edge of the board with his third. Throttle patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Such is the drawback of playing darts with one-eyed depth perception," he lamented.

Modo snorted and elbowed him. "Hey, I hit moving targets all the time," he retorted.

"Yeah--big ones, and when you're firing with a wide laser," Vinnie sniggered.

Over at the table, Jayce was tapping his pencil against the side of his chair like a drumstick as he looked over the score sheet again. "Modo's in a distant second place," he noted, his voice thoughtful, "while somebody else who has both eyes is dead last. I wonder what his excuse is?"

"Too much sugar?" Throttle guessed, as Modo grabbed Vinnie by his shoulders and playfully shoved him in front of the dartboard.

"Hey, I'm totally about to make my big comeback," Vinnie insisted firmly, while Modo discreetly slipped the bottle of root beer out of his friend's hand and replaced it with a trio of darts. Vinnie squinted at them for a moment. "Are these even the color I'm supposed to be using?"

"I lost track an hour ago," Throttle said lazily, leaning back against one of the square support pillars that were spaced around the room.

Shrugging, Vinnie started to line up his first shot...while swaying noticeably on his feet, which prompted Modo and Throttle to start cracking up again. Vinnie tried to scowl at them in response, but the sugar buzz had given him a case of the giggles and he couldn't keep a straight face anymore. Chuckling, Jayce shook his head and said, "That's settles it, Dee and I are definitely having at least three kids. Tam and I never had this much fun growing up."

As he finished off Vinnie's root beer for him, Modo tried to picture the current and retired generals when they were younger, acting with the same kind of carefree abandon that the three of them were displaying right now--and that was when he heard someone mutter something that shoved this and any other thought clear out of his mind. "At least somebody around here has the sense to stick with the right species."

Teeth gritted, Modo spun around again, positive that this had to mean what he thought it meant--and then he spotted who was speaking. The mouse didn't bother to duck down, or pretend to not be looking his way. He just glared in Modo's direction, eyes defiant. "Is there somethin' you're tryin' to tell me?" Modo asked, his tone low and packed with warning.

He recognized the mouse, who was sitting over at a table behind Jayce. His name was Harper, he was tall and muscular and dark-furred, and he and Modo used to hang out together all the time whenever Modo dropped by the bar, even goofing around together like he was doing with his bros right now...until Harper first set eyes on Ashlin, right after Modo first brought her to Mars. His reaction had been far less than kind, and Modo had avoided him ever since.

He caught glimpses of him here from time to time, but he had avoided and ignored him, and Harper had done the same...until tonight, that is. Now, he was glaring at Modo with a look that clearly said he was looking for and ready to make trouble. Sitting with him was a rough-looking female mouse who remained bent over her drink as the gruff biker spoke again.

"Oh, nothing," Harper said, his tone and posture loaded with innocence, though he spoke in a voice that projected around the room. A few heads turned their way, including Jayce's. "Just wondering about a little something. Is that missing eye of yours the reason you don't know what a real mouse looks like anymore?"

Modo let out a quiet growl; Throttle pushed away from the pillar with a frown. "Ashlin's as real a mouse as anyone," Modo said, teeth clenched.

"Only half of one," Harper retorted, the challenge in his voice plain.

"She acts like more of a mouse than a few others I could mention around here," Modo shot back, deliberately using the same challenging tone.

Baring his teeth, Harper suddenly pushed his chair back and lumbered to his feet, the wooden chair legs scraping roughly against the already heavily scuffed floor. Everyone in the room was looking at them now, their expressions mixed as they quietly watched the scene unfolding before them. Every mouse had tensed, some looking ready to dive for cover...while others looked ready and raring to jump in the second the fists started flying.

"You wanna rethink what you're suggesting?" Harper asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"That Ashlin's a better mouse than someone like you could ever hope to be? Hmmm...nope. My mind's made up."

Modo suddenly felt a hand rest gently on his shoulder. He hadn't noticed before, but there was a slight tremor running through his frame. It made him ball his fists as his gaze remained fixed on Harper, who looked more than ready to forget about words and start handling this another way. Throttle's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Come on," he said quietly, "you know she wouldn't want you to get in a fight over her."

No, Modo thought grimly, she wouldn't. She would hate it if he got hurt because of her, but...

Harper suddenly scoffed and shook his head as he folded his thick arms, his eyes shifting to Throttle. "Don't act so superior," he snapped. "You're just as much to blame here as he is."

Glancing back, Modo saw Throttle's eyebrows lift in surprise. He absently reached up and nudged his specs back down as he pulled his hand away from Modo's shoulder. "I am?"

"We've all heard the story. If it wasn't for that pasty bitch you live with sticking her nose where it didn't belong, we wouldn't even be talking about this right now."

Before Modo could react, he suddenly found himself being shoved aside, so hard he stumbled as Throttle pushed past him. The tan mouse stopped about an arm's-length away from Harper, and even though Throttle's back was to him, Modo could feel the sear of rage his gaze cut through his specs into the witless mouse in front of him. "I'm sorry...what did you just say?"

Throttle's voice had dropped so low, if the bar wasn't completely silent as everyone watched, breaths held, he probably wouldn't have been heard. There was something dangerous in that quiet tone-- _very_ dangerous, and it made more than a few of Modo's hairs stand on end. But Harper had apparently taken idiot pills this morning, because he gave a toss of his head and said, "I said, if it wasn't for that pasty bi--"

His words were cut off with a sharp crack, followed by a thud and a small clatter. Modo blinked, then lowered his gaze down to Harper, who was now lying on the floor. With a quiet moan, he rolled onto his side and pressed a hand over his mouth and nose. Throttle was massaging the knuckles of one hand, and next to his boot were what looked like Harper's two front teeth.

There was a moment of stunned silence--and after that things kind of exploded. Harper recovered with a furious growl and tackled Throttle around the waist, the two of them crashing into a set of tables as they hit the floor. Modo saw a glimpse of white out of the corner of his eye as Vinnie dove in to help--and he was just putting a foot forward to do the same when the girl Harper had been drinking with bolted up and came flying at him, a heavy bottle raised ominously in her hand.

Modo caught her wrist cleanly and hoisted her until only the tips of her toes were touching the ground. "Easy now," Modo warned, as she grunted and struggled and tried to kick him in the shins. "My mama taught me to never strike a lady, so don't--"

His warning was cut short as somebody abruptly jumped him from behind. He felt them loom up just before the blow fell, in the form of a wooden chair cracking down on his shoulder. It split in half from the impact, spindles and legs scattering across the floor.

Modo merely cocked an eyebrow at the broken seat at his feet. That was the trouble with a bar room brawl; the would-be fighters were too intoxicated to attack with much of their brains. Now, if the silly mouse had aimed for his left shoulder instead of his right...

The move had been little more than a distraction--but distraction was just what somebody else needed. Taking advantage of his averted attention, the kicking female stopped struggling and grabbed the bottle with her free hand. Modo caught the sudden motion out of the corner of his eye, but a second too late. He turned his head just in time to have to bottle clip his left cheekbone as it was pitched at him, and the wiry female broke free and ran off as he reeled in pain.

By now, the entire room had erupted in angry shouts, and the sound of more furniture breaking, fists flying and blows landing filled the air. As Modo struggled to shake the stars out of his brain, somebody else tried to rush him--and this time they had a whole table.

He wobbled to face them, hoping he could kick them back in time, but somebody beat him to it. Jayce seemed to pop up out of nowhere, and with a swish of metal and a clang that echoed through the bar, he knocked the unsuspecting mouse out cold with the tray he had borrowed earlier. Red eyes glinting, Jayce gave the tray a spin as he scanned the crowd. "Anyone else?"

Like he even needed to ask. It was obvious by the group that faced them, faces sneering and knuckles cracking as they readied fists and more furniture, that this fight was far from over.

Which suited Modo just fine.

* * *

Vinnie had no idea what time it was when he finally stumbled through the front door of his home, but Charley was still sitting up on the loveseat. She had Vector cradled in her arms, and he was sleeping soundly. Charley looked up as Vinnie came in--and let out a quiet gasp of surprise.

She hastily got up and set Vector carefully down on a cushion, then grabbed Vinnie by the arm and tugged him out into the hall. "What the hell did you do this time?" she demanded, her tone both scolding and accusing. "Shit, Vinnie, it looks like you were in a bar fight."

Vinnie flashed a tired smile in response, though he didn't put much humor behind it. "That's probably because I _was_ in a bar fight."

Scoffing, his wife shook her head and pushed back the fur on his face with her fingers, inspecting around his eyes for bruises before looking down and checking over his arms and hands. She let out a sound of surprise as Vinnie abruptly grabbed her shoulders and yanked her to him, pressing her to his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. The ribs on one side throbbed in response, but he didn't care.

"Vinnie, what...?"

"I have to ask you something," Vinnie began, very quietly. He pulled back a little and cupped her face in his hands, caressing her soft skin with his thumbs. "And I want you to answer me with complete honesty. Got it?"

Looking puzzled, Charley slowly nodded her head. "Since you've been here on Mars...has anyone ever messed with you? Said anything to you? Basically act like a jerk to you?"

Frowning now, Charley gave her head a shake. "No--no one. My customers either drop their bikes off and pick them up without saying much of anything, or..."

Looking a little embarrassed, she shrugged slightly. "Sometimes they flirt a little. No one's ever been rude or unkind."

"Not even a little?" Vinnie pressed.

Charley shook her head again. "Not once. Everyone's been great since I got here. They've all made me feel at home."

Frowning harder, her eyes studied his face for a long moment. "What happened tonight?"

Sighing, Vinnie pulled her close again. "Something that says more about my own species that I really wanted to know."

Something you could call ironic, he realized. Something that was ironic in the most unfunny way possible.

* * *

Everything was quiet when Modo got home, the rooms silent, empty and dark. He ached in at least a dozen places, but he barely noticed as he hurried straight to Ashlin's room. He found her bed empty and unslept in, and he hurried across the hall to Ako's room...but that was empty, too.

It doesn't mean anything, he told himself as he rushed from room to room. They had to be here somewhere, dozing off together. Those guys at the bar...they were just jerks who talked too much. No one around here would actually think about hurting Ashlin. Especially not here in his own home, where...

His thoughts faded from his mind as he looked around the doorway and into his bedroom. A light was on next to the bed, and an old radio perched on his dresser was quietly playing a rock tune. Curled up on the bed on top of the covers, sleeping soundly and peacefully, was Ashlin. Little Ako was tucked snugly in her arms, her head rested against his fur like a pillow, and he was smiling softly as he dreamed.

With a lump rising into his throat, Modo absently nudged off his boots before gently getting onto the bed beside them and placing his arms around their sleeping forms. He settled down close to them, his gaze fixing on Ashlin's face as he tightened his arms around her. She stirred slightly before relaxing again, the faintest of smiles softening her features.

He would never tell her about what happened tonight. He knew she was going to be able to tell something was wrong in the morning, but he would never be able to repeat the words spoken about the one he loved so much. Harper's mouthing off before the fight broke out had been mild compared to some of the things he and the others had said before it was over. They had been mice he barely knew, or didn't know at all, yet they each seemed to harbor the same level of hatred for the young rat-cross.

It was all so wrong, and so unfair, and tears pricked at his eye as he squeezed it shut and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Tamerin took a moment to rub her tired eyes before picking up the bike part she was working on and jabbing at it with a screwdriver. Yesterday had been strange in so many ways. After her talk with her mother...well, they had actually continued to talk. Not in any relaxed, natural way--her mother was as clipped and seemingly emotionless with her as ever, but each time Tamerin had said something, or asked her a question, she had responded. But even after such a revealing afternoon, she couldn't quite reach a place where she felt comfortable, and when she finally left it had been both a relief and a disappointment. As awkward as she still felt...she was willing to work through that awkwardness, to overcome it and reach a place where she enjoyed her mother's company again.

She had a feeling that day was still a long way off, but it was a journey she was ready to patiently take. She planned to tell Jayce about her odd afternoon, but he had spent most of yesterday trying to break the sound barrier, followed by running off to Conrad's with Throttle and the others. Jayce could get kind of goofy when he really let loose, but he still kept his wits about him and understood that the bond the three of them shared was a special one and didn't try to wedge his way into their friendship. He kept himself to the fringes instead, like a spectator riding the waves caused by their antics.

Tamerin was a little sorry she had missed all the fun they no doubt had, but there was still days left on her cycle, and even if she didn't need to keep her distance from Throttle she was still getting tired easily and probably wouldn't have been able to keep up with them. Plus she still felt ashamed of herself after the stunt she pulled the other night, and she set the part down again as she pressed her tired face into her hand.

Nutty on hormones or not, she couldn't believe she'd acted like such a bitch--especially to Ashlin and Modo, two of the sweetest beings in the galaxy. She had pounced on Ashlin first thing yesterday morning and blubbered a thousand apologies, explaining her weird, fractured reasoning behind her cruel interruption--and Ashlin, ever an angel, had immediately forgiven her. So of course the first thing she did afterward was head out and jump right back into bitch-mode with Modo.

And why _did_ she feel the need to jam her nose where it didn't belong all the time? It had been a bad habit of hers for as long as she could remember, and being a commanding officer for so long had made it worse. She was used to dictating the actions of others and pushing them to be their best--for their own safety and for the sake of those whose lives depended on them. But this planet was at peace and she wasn't in command anymore, and these weren't her men...they were her friends, her family. She needed to break this habit and quick.

She planned to do something to make it up to the two of them someday, but for now she was giving them their privacy and had transported to Malteria after work. She'd visited Dee, who reported that she and the baby were doing perfectly, and afterward she had dinner and then wasted a few hours at the game parlor before spending the night in the apartment Deichan shared with Jayce.

And now it was morning again and she had work to do, but she was having a hard time focusing much of her attention on it. In her quest to avoid her beloved mate, she had taken her things to the room here in the back, where no one had a whole lot of reason to go most of the time. She had her tools lined up on a grubby bench that was once a desk of some kind--most likely owned by whoever used to catalog what came in and out of the building back when it was used for storage. There were drawers for filing underneath the desk, and in the wall above it was a panel of glass with a slit at the base of it, no doubt for passing paperwork back and forth.

She wasn't sure of the whole history of the place, but a few feet to her right there was a space in the wall that was once a door, and on the other side was a wide hallway that Charley used for storing boxes full of parts that didn't fit anywhere else. It was isolated and quiet here, which was why Tamerin had picked this spot to work--so it took her completely by surprise when Throttle suddenly breezed up and put his hand to the glass.

She had felt his mind inside the garage somewhere, but with her thoughts so distracted she hadn't been paying attention to what he was feeling, and she had never assumed he would suddenly approach her. For a moment she only stared, wondering why he picked here and now to meet up with her face to face when it was only a handful of steps to the open doorway--and then her eyes focused on the state he was in.

It was so subtle it was unnoticeable at first glance...but there was no doubt about it. It looked like he had showered before coming to work, but even after vigorous scrubbing and a bit of fluffing his fur still looked a little matted in places--and dark, like the skin underneath was discolored. From the way he was standing, it looked like he was favoring his right ankle, and she couldn't be sure but she thought the areas around his eyes looked tired and puffy behind his specs.

Whatever had happened, it wasn't coming through their bond; his emotions were carefully controlled. Before she realized what she was doing, Tamerin had reached up and pressed her hand to the glass of the window, directly over his. "Are you all right?" she asked, her voice coming out soft.

She couldn't see Throttle's eyes through his darkly tinted lenses, but she could feel that they stay locked with hers as he nodded slightly.

"Nothing serious," he said lightly. He spoke in a low voice, but it didn't quite mask the scratchiness marring his usual huskiness. "Just a standard bar fight."

Even with his emotions as tightly controlled as they were, Tamerin knew there was nothing standard about it. "You always get into fights for no real reason?"

Throttle chuckled tiredly for a moment. "More often than I could say."

Underneath his quiet laughter and relaxed expression, Tamerin felt a tremor of anger. Whatever had happened, he was still fuming about it. "How bad do the poor saps who met the business end of your fists look?" she wondered, absently shifting her thumb against the glass.

To her surprise, Throttle moved his own thumb in response, shifting it until it was even with hers again. And in that moment Tamerin realized that any way she decided to move, he would match it. It was tempting to make a game of it, but instead she kept her hand where it was and lightly caressed her fingertips over his, wishing she was touching him directly.

"Pretty bad," Throttle responded quietly, as he mirrored her actions. "Way worse than the three of us, that's for sure."

"So, this was a group effort, then."

"More or less."

His carefully controlled expression tightened a little. "Modo hasn't come in, so he's probably still at home."

"Is he in bad shape?" Tamerin asked.

"Nah, he made out better than me or Vinnie. He's just pissed."

And Tamerin was pretty sure she knew why. There was one thing that someone could do--or rather say--that was sure to rile the ordinarily gentle mouse like nothing else. "What did they say about her this time?" she asked quietly.

Seeing that she had figured it out, Throttle didn't bother to try and deny it. He just let out a sigh as he absently drew his fingers down the glass, hovering their tips over the center of her palm. "Same as usual," he said grimly. "Only this time they were determined to push a few buttons. Sure hope they liked the reaction they got."

Tamerin snorted softly. "I'll bet."

They had managed to avoid a full-blown incident like this since Ashlin first moved to Mars, but deep down, they had all known it was only a matter of time. The locals weren't comfortable with her living so close, or with seeing her every day, or with having her shop in the same places they shopped. Even if she didn't understand all the reasons, Tamerin had seen for herself just how deep distrust for rats ran, so having a rat-cross in the same neighborhood almost felt like willingly allowing enemy infiltration.

With a sigh, she sank back in her seat and let her hand drop. "You know, I've heard about what happened to you three in the past. You would think if anyone around here has real reason to despise rats, it would be Vinnie."

Throttle gave a shrug and folded his arms, leaning his shoulder against the glass. A second later he winced a little and shifted his weight to his left foot. "I know what you mean, but that's sort of always been Modo's thing. Which was why he thought when he first brought her here that everyone would accept her."

Tamerin nodded, knowing what he meant. Modo had figured that once everyone saw how much he, someone who hated rats with a passion, loved a rat-cross as much as he clearly did, then they would all love her, too. But that reaction had only extended to Throttle and Vinnie, who knew their close friend's misgivings better than anyone--and of course there was Modo's mother. Ashlin's nature was so unimportant to her, she never so much as mentioned it. Tamerin was pretty sure that she was so ecstatic at the thought of her only son finally being off the market, she would have rejoiced if he'd come home with a mutant gerbil on his arm. The only thing that mattered to her was her son's happiness.

Unfortunately, they were the exception, not the rule. And suddenly, Tamerin found herself wondering if the same could be said if the shoe was on the other foot. If it was a rat instead of a mouse that loved Ashlin, and she had moved into a rat colony, would it be the same there as it was here? Or would the fact that she had gained the trust of the one who loved her be enough for the rest of them to accept her?

She really couldn't say, since up until Throttle, Modo, and Rimfire came to Malteria, her only interaction with either species was back when she first found Ashlin as a baby. She had known nothing about Mars and the way things worked--she didn't even know which of the stories she was told about Ashlin's origins was the truth. Both versions had, to an extent, rung falsely to her. If Ashlin was truly the result of either assault or a rebellious affair, then why would her mother carry her to term, only to abandon her in the desert?

One possible explanation that came to mind was that her mother had been hoping that she could pass her off as a mouse, but realized after she was born it would have been impossible--assuming that her mother was even a mouse. This had never been proven; for all she knew, her mother was the rat and her father was the mouse. This explanation worked in either case, since Ashlin's mouse features were as plain as the rat ones. There was no masking either side of her.

What was even more puzzling to her was that she had found Ashlin lying amid scorch marks and debris, suggesting that she had been the lone survivor of a sudden attack. But neither the mice or the rats she had talked to had been able to confirm this, which led Tamerin to consider another possibility. Ashlin's mother, guilty with her own actions, had made it look this way to hide the fact that her baby had actually been deliberately left to die. Tamerin didn't think she would ever know the truth.

"Do you think they'll ever get over it?" she asked softly. "Do you think, after watching what kind of person she is for long enough, they'll realize how stupid they're being? Or will this just go on and on, haunting both of them--and their children?"

Both Modo and Ashlin adored kids, so she had no doubt that they planned to start a family someday. The thought of anyone treating their future little ones the way they were treating Ashlin right now broke her heart.

Throttle must have sensed her pain, because he suddenly turned away--but not before he'd taken a step to the side, like he'd been about to come around the doorway. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn't want to risk coming close and putting his arms around her, so all he did was shake his head. "I don't know. I sure hope not."

He quietly went back to the main part of the garage, and Tamerin, after resting her face in her hands for a moment, went back to work. She expected to be left by herself for the rest of the afternoon, alone and quiet with her own thoughts--so she was taken by surprise again when Throttle suddenly started calling for her.

"Tam? Would you come here, please?"

She had been lost in her own mind and not paying attention; now she focused on their bond and realized that Throttle was nervous about something. Which was more than enough to make _her_ nervous, and she hastily dropped what she was doing and hurried to the front of the garage. When she got there, she found Throttle standing near Vinnie and Charley, who was cradling Vector and looking worried.

They were all staring at a mouse Tamerin didn't recognize, who turned to her as she came in. He was tall, grim-faced...and dressed in a guard uniform.

Uh-oh.


	8. Chapter 8

Modo was too upset to go to work today. He knew his bros would understand and cover for him, so when he woke up sore and stiff, he decided not to get out of bed. But it wasn't just because he was sore and stiff that he decided not to get out of bed, or even move. It was because he woke up with his arms still wrapped tightly around Ashlin, who was cuddled against his chest, a tiny smile on her face as she continued to dream. It looked like she had slept through the night and probably had no idea he was even here.

Someone else did. Ako was just waking up, and his fuzzy little mouth turned up in a smile beneath his tiny black nose as he uncurled himself and stretched. With a soft churring sound, he tiptoed across the blanket and nuzzled Modo's face, but he didn't say anything. Small as he was, he seemed to sense that something was passing between his adopted father and the Martian sleeping in his arms, and with a wave of his bushy tail he hopped down off the bed and padded out of the room.

Modo knew that Ako would be wanting his breakfast soon, but he tightened his arms and held Ashlin closer, just for a moment more. Her eyelids flickered and blinked open, then she smiled sleepily and tilted her head so she could look at him. "Hey," she greeted softly.

She looked happy to see him first thing in the morning, and she scooted up and brushed her fingers over his face. His cheekbone was still a little tender, but he managed not to visibly flinch when she touched it. He kept his gaze focused on her face, the sweet look in her eyes. He just didn't understand it. How could anyone look at this girl and respond with anything other than love?

Okay, so maybe his own first impression of her hadn't been all that swift--but he'd gotten over it, and in less than twenty-four hours. The local residents had been around Ashlin for nearly six months now. They had seen how gentle she was, how kind and thoughtful. Willing to do anything-- _anything_ \--in order to keep someone she loved safe. She was small, but she was brave and capable.

She was wonderful in ways he couldn't even name. It made his heart fill with so much love for her it hurt, and he drew her even closer in his arms as his throat burned suspiciously. It wasn't the only thing burning; there was something rushing through his veins as he looked back on last night, and it wasn't happiness. Just the thought that someone could think so badly of her that they actually hated her, even a little bit...

Ashlin suddenly squirmed in his arms, pulling back until she could see his face again. "What's wrong?"

For the briefest of moments, Modo considered telling her, but he hastily changed his mind. He didn't plan on going anywhere today and he wanted to keep her in a good mood. Spoil her for a change. So he forced a smile and playfully pecked her lips as he sat up. "Just had an ol' bar room brawl last night," he said casually. "Nothin' serious."

Ashlin sat up with a hard frown. "You weren't fighting about me, were you?"

He should have known she'd see right through him. "No," he said quickly, even though the thought of the look his mama would give him if she knew he was trying to fib almost made him cringe. "Somebody, uh, said somethin' less than complimentary about Tamerin-ma'am, and Throttle didn't take kindly to it."

Close enough to the truth...though not enough for Ashlin to look convinced. She opened her mouth to say something--just as the front door buzzed.

Almost sighing in relief, Modo pecked her lips again before hopping up. "We'll talk about it later," he said, as he rushed out of the bedroom. Hopefully, whoever was at the door had brought with them enough distraction to make Ashlin forget about this conversation. Unfortunately, it wasn't until after he pressed the button to open the front door did he remember those old words of wisdom: be careful what you wish for.

Standing outside was Tamerin, and Modo didn't need that mental bond she shared with Throttle to know that she was upset. Her pretty face was lined with worry, and her bright blue eyes looked oddly dark. She had her arms folded and her mouth pulled in a grim line. "They were going to send someone out, but I thought it would be better if one of us told you instead," she said, before he had a chance to even say hello.

Modo felt something turn cold inside him. "Tell me what?"

He heard a soft footstep behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Ashlin standing close by, clutching Ako to her chest. "There was a little problem out at the border this morning," Tamerin said as Modo looked at her again. "Along the patrol line."

Modo felt like he'd just been punched. He knew what that meant--and knew that there was only one reason she would be here telling him about it. His throat worked for a moment before he could ask the question he was now desperate to have answered. "Is he all right?"

Tamerin's already tired eyes managed to lose even more of their luster as she glanced at her feet for a moment. "From what I was told, he took a few pretty bad hits and...well, it's going to be a while before he'll be able to return to active duty."

"But he'll be all right?" Modo pressed.

"He's in one piece. But that doesn't mean he won't be in considerable pain for a while. Some of his injuries might bother him for the rest of his life."

Modo couldn't stand it anymore. Giving his head a shake, he turned around and reached out to lay his hands on Ashlin's shoulders. "Wait here," he told her firmly. "I'll be back soon."

Ashlin gave a tiny nod. Modo pressed a kiss to her forehead, gave her arm a reassuring squeeze, then turned and followed Tamerin out to the military base.

* * *

After heading to the base with Modo, Tamerin hung back while he went on to the infirmary. Throttle was here somewhere too, having gone on ahead of them while she ran to break the news to Modo. She didn't want to disturb the uncle and nephew as they talked for the first time in months, plus she still needed to keep her distance from Throttle for a little longer. And so she wandered alone for a while, roaming up one gray-green corridor and down another.

She had never been in here before, but everything had a familiar, almost welcoming feel to it. Retired or not, she felt comfortable here--in her element. Still, that was no excuse to go poking around where she didn't belong, and she turned to start back in the direction of the infirmary. Several mice of varying rank passed by her, weaving up and down the winding hallways and in and out of the various rooms, but she didn't see anyone she recognized. Not until she turned a corner and almost bumped nose-first into a female mouse marching briskly along with her head down, her eyes focused on the folder in her hands.

Tamerin felt herself tense as she drew back. This was actually an encounter she had managed to avoid since she moved here to Mars, but now that she was faced with it, she decided to hold her ground. The thought almost made her snort audibly; retreat from a confrontation? Her? Yeah, right.

Carbine was busy frowning at something she was reading and didn't notice her right away--and then her eyes snapped up and locked with hers with a hard glare. "Oh. It's _you_."

Tamerin merely blinked impassively. "Uh-huh. It's me."

She wasn't really sure what to say, because she honestly didn't want to provoke the active general. Broken relationships were still an unfamiliar concept to her, and bitter exchanges between exes and and new loves was something she had only heard about. Tamerin saw no reason to bear the female mouse any ill will. What had transpired between Carbine and Throttle had happened before she became part of his life, and Tamerin was secure and content in the knowledge that Throttle had moved on and now loved her just as much as she loved him. She wasn't naive enough to think that she and Carbine could interact on more civil terms, but she decided then and there that she wasn't going to take any bait the General tossed out, if only so she didn't give the injured mouse more reason to hate her than she already did.

"Looks like you have everything well under control around here," Tamerin noted, after several seconds of unpleasant silence ticked by. And she meant it. The base looked like it operated smoothly and organized.

Carbine snorted quietly. "Yeah, right." She lowered her eyes to the folder in her hand for a moment, then glanced at her again. "Tamara, isn't it?"

"Tamerin, actually. It takes influence from a name that originated in Eastern language on Earth, so the 'e' flows into the 'r' in a way that essentially makes the 'e' silent."

The General blinked at her. "So, why not just leave out the 'e' completely?"

Tamerin wondered that herself sometimes. "I'm not really sure. You'd have to ask my mother."

Carbine snorted again, louder this time. "I've never met your mother, but...they sure talk about her around here."

Tamerin cringed inwardly; she could imagine. Her mother had no concept of how to conduct herself in another general's base. Imeeran or Martian, she'd sniff out anyone she could intimidate and forever use it to her advantage. Sure, she was retired now, but she'd been on top for too long. She could never go back to behaving like a meek, willing-to-follow-instruction nobody. Tamerin only hoped she didn't step on the wrong toes when she was parading through here.

"You seem to be doing well," she ventured, as Carbine went back to her folder.

The General dropped her hands with a scoff as she fixed her eyes on her again, her mouth opening to respond--but then she glanced at a pair of male officers who were walking by and closed it again. Looking ruffled, she clamped her hand on Tamerin's shoulder and pushed her into a nearby room, where she folded her arms and faced her with a scowl. "You don't need to waste time with phony pleasantries," she muttered. "We all know the score. You won, I lost. Game over."

Tamerin blinked in surprise. "There was never any battle between us," she pointed out. "You and Throttle broke up before I was involved. He and I had only just met."

Scoffing again, Carbine turned and threw the folder down on a nearby desk with a slap. "That's right," Tamerin heard her mumble, "rub it in."

"I wasn't," Tamerin said, feeling even more surprised. "I was just--"

"Look," the General said, as she turned around and faced her again, "the fact that you have him and I don't is evidence enough. You don't need to try and come in here acting like the bigger, better person."

For a moment Tamerin could only stare. "Me? You couldn't be more off--I don't think I'm better than you, or anyone else. Just...different."

She absently slid her hands into the pockets of her jeans and shrugged. "In a lot of ways, you and I are more alike than different."

Carbine was glaring at her, clearly incredulous. "How so?" she asked warily.

"Well, we've both been generals, and we were both involved in wars that went on for far too long. We've seen, heard, and felt a lot of the same things."

Carbine gave her head a small shake as her eyes suddenly turned distant. "But when you're in this business, you can't let yourself feel too much," she murmured. "It gets in the way, clouds your thinking. Especially when you're at war; everything that means something to you has to come last. All of your actions have to be about keeping your home, your planet and its people safe. Duty has to come before everything else...even your own heart."

Tamerin started to say something--and then fell silent as something hit her, something that she might not have ever figured out on her own. For that reason, she knew she would always be grateful that they'd had this conversation, no matter what direction it went from here.

What Carbine had just described had been exactly how her mother had lived from the day the war with the shape-shifters first began. She'd set aside everything that was personally important to her and focused her every last thought on bringing that war to an end, on keeping their people alive. Judging by how often she had berated her for letting her emotions get the better of her, especially on the battlefield, Tamerin had always assumed that her mother had wiped her own emotions from her heart. That she had somehow erased any trace of affection or empathy for anyone--and especially any love she felt for either her or Jayce.

Tamerin now knew that she had been wrong. Her mother had loved them both the entire time--she had just forced herself not to show it. She had chosen not to be a mother in lieu of being a leader, sacrificing everything she cared about in order keep her mind clear and focused on her singular goal. When she suddenly quit and passed off being a general to her, Tamerin had thought that her mother was being selfish, but now she didn't blame her for it. Her mother had lived unselfishly for almost thirty years, sacrificing every last part of herself, so when she suddenly met someone who opened up her heart and made her happy again...well, she had more than earned the right to be selfish for once.

While all this was going through her mind, Carbine was studying her. Apparently, the General had gotten wind of how free and open she was with her own feelings, because she suddenly said, "That's not something you've really dealt with yourself."

Knowing she was right, Tamerin shrugged again and glanced at her boots. "Not entirely," she admitted. "After losing my father, I didn't want to risk not showing the people around me how I really felt, because I knew that I could lose them at any time. In its way, it's just as hard as closing yourself off, since it stirs up its own problems. But in the end you and I both succeeded in ending our wars, so...who's to say either method is wrong?"

Carbine grew quiet after that, her dark eyes studying her for a long moment. Finally, she leaned her hand back on the desk and ran her fingers through her black hair with a sigh. "Does it even matter?" she wondered. "You're retired, and you have him. I put my duty before our relationship, and I wasn't emotionally ready like he needed me to be. So it really shouldn't come as any surprise that he's yours now. I get it."

Tamerin wasn't sure what to say. The General's tone was quiet, like she was admitting defeat. And in a way she was, but before Tamerin could think of how to respond, someone interrupted.

She popped up in the doorway out of nowhere, leaning one hand on the frame and the other on her hip. "I don't suppose either of you know where the infirmary is around here," she said crisply. "I asked some intern a minute ago, but he just looked at me funny."

And was there any wonder why? Tamerin had to disagree that she wasn't in considerable control of herself and her emotions most of the time. Otherwise she'd be curled up in the nearest corner right now, whimpering in utter embarrassment. Her mother really needed to spend more time on other planets, because nearly three hundred years old or not, she was a little clueless and naive when it came to her wardrobe.

She had on a shimmery one-piece bodysuit that was sleeveless, the legs cut like a pair of extremely short shorts--and of course it was black and beyond skintight. There was red stitching along the seams and around the back pockets, and the neckline was a plunging 'v' framed by faux lapels. It closed with a zipper up the center, which could be raised a good deal higher than it was, but apparently her mother wanted to test how well Rimfire's heart was working by greeting him with an overflow of cleavage. If all that wasn't bad enough, she had paired the risqué outfit with a set of thigh-high leather boots, which were at least flat on the bottom instead of sporting spiked heels.

Not that it helped much. There was something vaguely biker-babeish about the look, which Tamerin assumed was why her mother was wearing it...but mostly it looked like something you'd see a woman wearing on a street corner after dark.

Stifling a sigh, Tamerin pointed to her right. "It's just up the hall, Mom," she explained. "Turn at the first left and head through the door that reads 'Medical Wing.'"

Carbine was quietly gawking, and continued to stare blankly at the empty doorway after her mother spun on her heel and all but ran off. " _That's_ your mother?"

Tamerin withheld a groan--almost--and rubbed between her eyes for a moment. "Now you know. Welcome to my world. Or is it my nightmare?"

She kept her hand to her face--mostly to shield her look of embarrassment--while her gaze stayed fixed on her toes...and then she heard an odd sound. Like laughter that was being muffled. She looked up to see that Carbine was watching her with her hand clamped over her mouth, and her shoulders were shaking.

For the briefest of moments Tamerin was annoyed...but then she felt the corners of her mouth start to lift. Before long, the two of them were snorting on suppressed laughter together, like they were old friends sharing a private joke. When her giggles finally died down, Tamerin slowly lowered her hand, a faint smile on her face. Then, mirroring a move she had seen Throttle and the others make, she extended her hand and made a fist.

Carbine looked surprised for a moment, but then, her expression almost shy, she stretched her own hand out and thumped their fists together.

* * *

As he rushed into the infirmary, Modo really had no idea what to expect. Tamerin-ma'am hadn't told him anything, other than his nephew was 'in one piece.' But that didn't mean his skin wasn't torn, or covered in laser burns, or that his bones weren't marred by multiple fractures and contusions. His mind pulled up all sorts of nightmarish scenarios during his short walk down the hall, so when he pushed open the door to Rimfire's room and saw him lying back on one of the beds looking calm, relaxed, and unscathed, he almost went weak in the knees with relief.

But as he went closer and drew up a stool, he saw that his nephew wasn't as unscathed as he first thought. His eyes were bloodshot, one of his arms was bandaged from wrist to shoulder and secured with a sling, and his other arm was hooked up to an IV. As Modo sat down and scooted closer, Rimfire flashed his uncle a sleepy smile. "Well, hey," he greeted, his voice croaking a little.

Modo swallowed thickly. "Hey," he returned, resting a gentle hand on his nephew's good shoulder. "You gonna be okay, boy?"

Rimfire wrinkled his nose for a moment, his eyes squinting a little as he assessed himself. "I'll heal," he allowed. "My arm was twisted and popped out of the socket, and most of the fur is burned off my back--which isn't a whole lot of fun to be lying on right now. Not that I can really feel it," he added, with a crooked grin. "They gave me something for the pain. So if I look a little out of it right now...try not to notice."

Modo just smiled as relief filled him again. "As long as you'll be okay." He brushed a hand over his nephew's two-toned hair, then sat back, his expression turning solemn. "You and I need to talk."

Rimfire's smile faded. "If this is about Bev..."

Modo lowered his eye for a moment. "I've been thinkin' a lot about it, and--"

Rimfire suddenly propped himself up on his good elbow. "Before you say anything, I want you to know something," he said, cutting him off. "I don't expect you to like her. I don't expect you to accept what we've done, or what we mean to each other. But I _do_ expect you to treat her with respect. She's a lot more fragile than she makes herself out to be and I'm not going to take it lightly if you end up hurting her."

His uncle flashed him a faint smile. "Keepin' a protective eye on the little lady, huh? Atta boy."

For a moment Rimfire looked surprised, but then he eased back again with a faint smile of his own, though his face turned serious a moment later. "She needed me," he said, his quiet tone firm. "She's not like she acts, deep down. I don't think anyone realized just how lonely and afraid she was when we first met. Not even her."

Giving his head a small shake, Modo rested a hand on his shoulder again. "You don't have to explain it to me," he said quietly. "That's all between the two of you. And whatever happens in the future is between the two of you, too. I know I didn't handle it all that well when I first found out, but..."

Modo breathed a sigh. "You're not a kid anymore. You're old enough to handle stuff like this on your own."

Looking surprised again, Rimfire studied him for a moment. His expression softened. "Thanks," he murmured.

"Don't mention it. Just get back on your feet."

His ears suddenly twitched; someone was on the other side of the door. Their footsteps were rapid, like they were agitated, but they thumped softly on the hard floor as the person paced back and forth. Modo stood from the stool, his gaze still on his nephew. "I'll head out of here so you can sleep. But if you ever need anythin', just yell. Got it?"

Smiling again, Rimfire nodded. Modo turned and started for the door--just as it swung open, making a gust that buffeted his face. "Are you two done making up?" asked Bevra as she swept in. "Good."

Modo hastily stepped back as she all but flew to the bedside. As he watched her take up his previous position on the stool and leaned over the prone young guard, Modo felt torn between gawking and looking away in embarrassment. What the heck was she wearing, anyway?

If the sudden flicker of interest that flashed through his dark brown eyes meant anything, Rimfire appreciated the racy getup. "Who needs nurses when I've got you?" he remarked slyly.

His face warming uncomfortably, Modo beat a hasty retreat. But as the door was swinging shut behind him, he found himself glancing back as Bevra-ma'am let out a strange sound. Like a long exhale of breath that was barely holding back tears. Just before the door closed, Modo caught a glimpse of her dropping her head to Rimfire's chest, while Rimfire slipped his good arm around her shoulders. After that he couldn't see them anymore...but he didn't need to in order to know what was happening right now. Rimfire was comforting his mate, while her normally steely persona melted away and she struggled not to cry. She'd lost the one she loved once before, and no doubt today had dragged up a lot of old, painful memories.

Modo understood now. He understood why his nephew took a woman who acted like she was forged from iron and stone and treated her like spun glass. As he quietly left the infirmary, he felt himself smile. Atta boy, he thought. Atta boy.


	9. Chapter 9

_I'm alive without you_  
_And I'm better off alone_  
_Like a queen on her throne_

_I can fly without you_  
_And this time I'm gonna make it_  
_Here on my own_  
~I'm Alive;  Issa

Throttle knew that Modo would want to talk to Rimfire alone, and he also knew that Tamerin was here somewhere too, so after he rode over to the base he kept to himself, absently pacing up and down a secluded back corridor for a while. He hadn't been here in months, but everything looked the way he remembered; a seemingly endless collection of hallways and connecting rooms, all colored the same gray-green, though the hallways and rooms in the infirmary were more of a gray-white. The monochrome look and lack of variety to the overall design made it easy to get turned around--or completely lost--if you weren't familiar with the layout. Which of course was the whole idea, in case enemy feet happened to come walking through.

It was an environment that was stiff and formal, and Throttle felt edgy as he paced. A short time later he saw Modo come out of the infirmary looking relieved, and his step seemed lighter as he smiled, like a heavy weight had just been lifted from him. Throttle could easily guess why. "So...everything's okay?" Throttle asked as they met up.

Modo smiled again, understanding that he wasn't just referring to the young guard's health. "Yeah. He's restin' now, and he, uh, has his 'nurse' to look after him."

"I'm jealous," Throttle said with a sigh. "My nurse is still avoiding me like the plague."

"You'll survive. Absence makes the heart grow fonder 'n all that. I'm gonna head home now, okay?"

Throttle nodded. "Sure. Charley closed up the garage, so we can all forget about work for now."

The large gray mouse hurried off, and Throttle headed back across the base with another sigh. He could feel Tamerin somewhere close by and he was trying to keep his distance. But with nothing else to focus on except her, he suddenly noticed how strange her mood was. She was amused, yet agitated, like she was in the middle of a situation where she wasn't completely sure how to act.

It piqued his curiosity enough for him to head closer, moving down the crisp, narrow hallways and turning corners as he was guided by their strengthening bond. When he sensed that she was only a few feet away, he suddenly heard her voice--and that wasn't all he heard. Another voice joined hers, a voice...that he knew every bit as well as he knew Tam's.

Oh, shit.

As his feet jerked forward in a sudden burst of speed, Throttle could just picture what was going on beyond the open doorway that loomed before him. A historic first: a Martian mouse and an Imeeran in the cat-fight of the century. Only when he burst through the doorway and skidded to a stop, he was greeted by the strangest of sounds.

Laughter.

"What the hell is this?"

Tamerin was straddling a chair, her arm draped over the back of it, and Carbine was perched on the edge of a nearby desk, one leg tucked up near her chest while her other foot rested on the floor. She had a glass bottle in her hand, and she was leaning forward to pour its contents into the glass Tamerin was holding out. The General paused mid-pour as they both turned their heads and looked at him, their puzzled expressions matching. "We're taking part in one of most basic rituals of recreation," Carbine stated, her dry tone suggesting that their actions were too obvious to need an explanation.

Throttle blinked a couple of times; his eyes focused on the bottle. "Getting hammered?" he guessed, his tone equally dry.

Tamerin sat back with a giggle. She didn't usually giggle. Just when she was in a good mood...or nervous. He couldn't tell which. "Girl talk," Tamerin corrected.

"Oh."

And since when were his mate and ex on such good terms that they were able to placidly sit down for girly chitchat? His complete and utter bewilderment must have been plain on his face, because both females giggled at him-- _both_ of them--before clinking their drinks together. "Here," Carbine ordered, turning and shoving the bottle into his hand. "This'll put hair on your chest."

This remark made Tamerin snicker behind her hand. After staring blankly at them both for a long moment, Throttle took a swig from the bottle--and promptly shoved it back at Carbine with a cough. "Smooth," he rasped.

The General just smirked and sipped from the bottle, while Throttle's throat continued to burn and his eyes kept watering. And people had the nerve to ask why he and his bros only ever drank root beer.

Tamerin tossed back her full glass and downed it in one gulp, while Throttle stared in mute surprise. Carbine looked equally surprised. Tamerin gazed calmly back at them both as she finished swallowing. "What?"

"You're only supposed to sip a drink that strong," Throttle told her.

"So you don't get drunk in one go," Carbine added.

Forehead lining in puzzlement, Tamerin looked down at her empty glass. "Is this alcohol?"

Carbine glanced at Throttle with another smirk. "It ain't root beer."

Tamerin set her glass down with a faint clink. "I thought it tasted funny," she noted, with a slight frown. "I've never had any before, since we don't bother stocking Malteria with hard liquor."

"How do those blood filters of yours work, exactly?" Throttle wondered.

"I'm not really sure. I would assume they simply strain the alcohol out of the bloodstream and..." Pulling a face, Tamerin suddenly squirmed in her seat. "And then send it straight on to the, um..."

She squirmed again, and then, with a sound of dismay, she jumped to her feet and bolted for the door. Throttle hopped out of the way and watched her run down the hall. "First door on your right," he called after her.

She pivoted on her heel and vanished from sight. Chuckling, Throttle turned around--and felt his humor fade in a hurry. Carbine had gotten up from the desk and moved closer, her dark eyes studying him intently from her equally humorless face. He was glad that his own eyes weren't visible, so she couldn't see how he glanced uncertainly down at the tops of his boots as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. He had seen her from a distance a handful of times, but this was the first time they had met face to face--alone--since they broke up.

"So," he finally said, after the silence had mounted to an uncomfortable degree. "How've you been?"

He expected her to shoot him a 'how do you think?' look and turn away, but instead she surprised him by flashing a faint--almost shy--smile. "Good. Really good, actually. I think I'm one of those girls who's happier single. It's been nice, being on my own for a change."

Throttle wasn't sure what to say in response...or sure how he felt about what she'd just said. As far as he knew, he had been her only real boyfriend--just like she had been his first real girlfriend--and they had been a couple since their teens. So he had to wonder which was making her happier: being alone, or just being without him.

It was one of those things that he knew he was better off not knowing or asking about. If they had both reached a place where they could speak civilly to each other, then it was best to just nod quietly and change the subject. "What happened this morning, anyway?" he asked.

Carbine's smooth expression changed abruptly, shifting to that general-mode hardness he was so familiar with. She turned and grabbed a folder off the nearby desk. "Something that's been happening off and on for the last couple of weeks," she responded, her tone grim. "It's nothing that has anything to do with any mouse directly, but..."

She leafed through the contents of the folder for a moment, then set it aside and faced him again, arms folded. "According to the latest report, scattered groups of rats and sand raiders have joined together and now they're fighting each other over territory and resources. A handful of our guards and a few civvies simply got caught in the middle of things...not that either side is very worried about who's in the crossfire."

Throttle nodded again, able to picture what was happening all too easily. After the war had ended, the other two Martian races were--ironically--in much worse shape than mice. Since they had both been, as the saying went, 'in bed' with the Plutarkians, once the last of the stink-fish were captured, killed, or driven off planet, both their lapdogs and the rats were then dealt with. Taken in and tried for their crimes--which most of them had been executed for. The ones who had escaped into the wilds had fled with very little food and only a handful of weapons.

So it was really no surprise that the two races were fighting with each other--and coming after mice was out of the question. As broken as they had once been, they stood strong now, and while progress was undeniably slow, it was also steady and sure. Someday, they would thrive again.

As for the others...they were starving. Dying out. And with nowhere to go and no one to turn to for aid, the two weakened species turned on each other. Whichever proved to be the weakest could end up stripped of everything they had--maybe even wiped out altogether. The more Throttle thought about it, the more unsettled he felt. This was a situation that could end up getting very, very nasty--for everyone. There was no doubt in his mind that Rimfire was far from the last mouse casualty that would turn up before all this was over.

"So, what's the plan?"

With a frown, Carbine picked up the report again and flipped through a couple of pages. "It hasn't really been decided yet, but I imagine that we'll stay safely out of it. They haven't tried to breach our borders or attack anyone directly, so for now we'll add more guards and tighten patrol."

"And then wait until they _do_ attack us directly?" Throttle asked dryly.

Surprised, Carbine looked up from the folder. Her dark eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me...let me guess. You're going to go grab the others and ride straight to where you don't belong so you can kick the hornet's nest."

Throttle couldn't help flashing a sly grin. "You know me so well."

Groaning quietly, the General squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Throttle..."

She never got to finish whatever stern warning she had been about to give him, because just then a very familiar fuzzy white head poked through the doorway. "Ah, there you are," Vinnie said brightly when he spotted Throttle. "Are you--"

"No," Carbine said sharply.

The white mouse gave her a puzzled frown. "I didn't ask for anything."

"And if you know what's good for you, you won't. I don't care what it is you want, you're not getting it."

With a heavy, long-suffering sigh, Vinnie stepped into the room and folded his arms. "Is this a new routine for all the generals around here?" he wondered. "Stoker just told me the same thing."

"And don't you forget it," the female mouse told him coolly.

She brushed past the two of them and marched out into the hall. "Keep an eye on him," she called back over her shoulder.

Throttle smirked. Vinnie shook his head and clucked his tongue. "Yeesh. You blow up one of the last air crafts the army has left _once_ and they never let you hear the end of it."

He shook his head a moment more, then turned back to Throttle, his expression sly. "I heard what's going on. How soon do we head out and remind these guys who they should and shouldn't screw with?"

"Now seems good," Throttle responded casually.

He wasn't going to ask Modo if he wanted to join them, though. Knowing the big softie, he would probably want to spend the rest of the day hovering around Ashlin. "I'm done here, so..."

Throttle trailed off as his nose twitched. A tantalizingly sweet odor was suddenly flooding his nostrils, and a second later Tamerin appeared in the doorway. She wisely didn't come any closer. "I am _never_ drinking again," she announced tartly.

"Almost didn't make it?" Throttle guessed.

The muscular Imeeran wrinkled her slender nose for a moment, then turned her attention to Vinnie. "You've got that 'I'm thinking about being destructive' look," she noted. "Can I come, too? I could use the workout."

"I don't see why not," said Vinnie, shrugging and smiling.

Throttle didn't see why not either. What he was smelling right now was a different story.

"I think the two of us can handle it by ourselves," he said slowly, his eyes on his mate.

Vinnie gave him a funny look--but then he frowned as it dawned on him. "Oh, yeah. I forgot."

Tamerin bit her lip and glanced away, and Throttle was pretty sure he knew what she was thinking. It was the same thing he was thinking. He'd asked her once, shortly after she came to Mars with him, why she didn't try to find a bike of her own. "Because then I wouldn't be able to ride with you," she had pointed out slyly. "I'd rather sit with my arms wrapped around you than steer."

No argument from him. Since then they had taken dozens of rides together, and she always clung to him tightly...though if they were alone, her hands had a tendency to wander. Something about riding fast as the wind, combined with the heat from the engine, the smell of hot leather, and the firm, steady vibrations rumbling through the seat between their legs and into their bodies, humming along their spines...

It was all very...stimulating.

"I'll ask Jayce if he wants to come, too," Tamerin suddenly suggested, interrupting his thoughts. Which was probably a good thing, because they had been a pit stop behind a sandy hillside away from turning into a full-blown fantasy.

"Good idea," said Throttle, relieved. "You can ride with him."

"Besides," Tamerin went on, "it's not like we're heading into a particularly dangerous situation, right? We're just going to scope things out, maybe scare off a few desert natives who are getting a little too close to mouse territory for their own good..."

"Basically," Throttle agreed.

Neither the rats or the raiders were well armed anymore, so even if they ran into a group or two today, it was highly unlikely that dealing with them would be much of a hassle.

Quietly keeping his distance from his mate, Throttle turned and headed out of the room and down the hall, and Tamerin just as quietly let Vinnie slip between them before taking up the rear. Throttle's mind was already wandering as they headed for the base's exit, thinking about if he should grab something to eat before they took off--and then he saw something that made him stop in his tracks.

It wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Just a male mouse walking briskly through the hallway that crisscrossed in front of them, his head down over a stack of papers in his hands. But it was a sight that caused the strangest tightening in his gut.

Vinnie came up beside him wearing a strange frown, and Throttle knew he must have a seriously weirded out look on his face for Vinnie to notice that something was wrong when his mind had shifted into 'let's go blow shit up' mode. "What is it?" he asked.

Throttle gave his head a small shake. "Nothing."

Just that the last time he saw that particular mouse, whose name was Vice, he was lying on the floor at Throttle's feet with a hole blasted in his chest. Seconds before, Tamerin had shot him after figuring out he was responsible for framing Throttle for theft. Except it hadn't really been Vice. Just a shape-shifter that looked like him.

Behind him, Tamerin said quietly, "I know exactly how you feel."

"Of course you do," Throttle responded, in a weak stab at humor. "You can feel how I feel."

A tremor of emotion came through their bond, making him look over his shoulder at her. She looked pensively down at the floor as she shook her head. "That's not what I meant. Back when the shifters would infiltrate the city...they always copied the shape of someone who was off planet, or scouting the surface, since it was less likely for us to spot the impostor than if the real Imeeran was somewhere in the colony. Then when they got inside, they usually still looked like whoever they were imitating when they started firing. Hundreds were killed looking at the face of one of our own."

She wet her lips, then lifted her eyes and looked at him. "And then the one they were imitating would come home again. And they'd have to deal with people they knew and loved seeing them and remembering the ones they saw die at the hands of something that looked like them, every time that unfortunate person walked by."

Throttle felt a tightening inside him again as he faced her fully, but for a new reason. He was afraid to hear the answer to the question that had just popped into his head, but it came tumbling out anyway. "Never happened to you and anyone you know, did it?"

Tamerin smiled thinly--a bitter smile without any trace of humor. "Deichan, while I was helping out at the hospital once. Because where better to strike than at the wounded, and with the body of the one they trust the most to take care of them?"

Throttle groaned inwardly; why did he have to ask? "How the hell did you get over something like that?" he asked, cringing at the thought.

"I had to. She's my best friend."

That was so messed up he couldn't even picture it. The image of that angel-voiced, fairy-sized doctor opening fire on her beloved patients? It was like Modo blowing up an orphanage. If Tamerin had to witness something like that, then he could damn well get over this. In fact, he was pretty sure he had already forgotten all about it. The weirdness he'd just felt seemed trivial and pointless now.

She was putting on a brave face, but his mate couldn't hide the fact that talking about the casualties of her planet's recently ended war had stirred up painful memories. The urge to reach over and comfort her was strong--but so was the odor on her skin, and he forced himself to keep his hands at his sides.

Vinnie, who had been watching them and fidgeting uncomfortably, suddenly flashed a crooked grin. "Want me to hug her for you?"

"Please."

Tamerin let out a laugh as her playful white 'bro' yanked her into a bear-hug, rocking from side to side so hard they both almost fell over. "Now come on," Throttle said firmly, "let's get out there and blow shit up already."

* * *

After leaving the base, Modo headed straight home. He was lost in thought and didn't really see the buildings or rows of carefully tended gardens he rode by along the way. On his way out of the base, he had bumped into Stoker (who had been in the middle of chewing out Vinnie over the incident with the spaceship they had borrowed to visit Earth a while back) and the aging General had filled him in on the current situation. Modo only hoped that things didn't get any more out of hand, but he wasn't going to hold his breath.

It was tempting to take a ride out into the desert and scope things out for himself--later. Right now, he just wanted to get home and be with Ashlin. The more he thought about last night, the more steamed he got. It was all so unimportant. Ashlin's roots didn't make any difference what kind of person she was. Even if she looked more like a rat than a mouse, it wouldn't change who she was inside. And he would still love her just the same...though it might have taken him a little longer to get used to her.

Thinking about it now made him start to wonder about a couple of things. He'd never thought about it before, but if someone with rat's blood in them could turn out like Ashlin, then maybe every last one of them wasn't completely evil, like everyone believed. And maybe, strange as the thought was, his own overall view of them had softened because of his love for her. Just a tiny bit.

It was a silent curiosity that was unexpectedly answered mere moments later. As he rounded a curve, the entrance to his home came into view--and an unmistakable shape was crouched outside it.

The sight triggered a burst of familiar emotions. A tightening in his gut. A flicker of anger. A touch of revulsion. No, there was definitely no softening in how he saw a full-blooded rat--especially a full-blooded rat that was sniffing around outside of his own home.

Gritting his teeth, Modo bore down on the accelerator, but the slinking figure had spotted him. By the time he pulled up by the door, it was gone. Modo scanned the area, looking around at the quiet afternoon as he dismounted, and shook his head in disbelief. If he hadn't seen it with his own eye, he would never believe it.

The small home he shared with Ashlin was carved through a massive hill of hard stone and soil. It was so big that many other mouse homes wove through it, and businesses and thriving gardens circled around the hill itself. There were other cave dwellings, but the one Modo lived in was right in the middle of the residential district. How on Mars did a rat sneak this deep into mouse territory without anyone noticing?

He'd figure that part out later. Right now he was anxious to make sure his family was safe, and he hurried for the door--which he discovered with relief was firmly locked. After punching the code into the keypad, Modo hurried inside.

Everything was quiet. It felt strange--hollow, like the place was empty. Modo darted through the living room and down the hall, ears straining for sound--any sound. "Ash?"

No one answered, though his own voice seemed to hang heavily in the air after he spoke. The door to Ashlin's room stood open and he started to look inside--and then his gaze fell on something tacked to the wall, just outside his own room.

It was a note, and it read, 'Got lonely, so I took Ako and went to see your mother. Love you.'

Awash with relief, Modo hurried back outside. It was a short distance to his mama's, so he instead of riding he walked and was soon ringing the buzzer at his mama's door. The petite gray mouse herself invited him inside--tugged him inside, to be exact, her face beaming and her hands covered with flour. "Come on," she ordered, "we're making cookies."

Chuckling, Modo followed her to the kitchen, where Ashlin was busy stirring a bowl full of sticky batter, while Ako was perched on a counter licking a wooden spoon. Modo went over, rested his hands on the slender Martian's shoulders and kissed her forehead. Ashlin looked up from her work with a sheepish smile. "I know you sort of told me to stay put, but..."

"It's okay," Modo told her quickly.

He thought briefly about telling her what he had just seen before he decided not to mention it. No point in worrying her when there was probably nothing to worry about. No rat was crazy enough to deliberately cross mouse borders right now, especially alone, so the figure he had seen had probably fled from a raider attack and was looking for someplace to hide. He'd report what he had seen later, but he doubted there was any reason why a rat would suddenly show up outside their home beyond it being a huge coincidence.

Smiling softly, he brushed his hand across Ashlin's cheek. "Everything's okay. As long as you're safe."


	10. Chapter 10

As he and the others crested the top of a hill, Throttle paused and took a moment to scan the wide, open desert below. The afternoon sky was clear, the horizon bright and a little hazy. The air was warm and smelled of dust and old exhaust. It was a perfect afternoon to head out looking for trouble--or to bring somebody else trouble--but one tiny thing kept the day from being completely flawless. Instead of sitting behind him, her sinewy arms wrapped around his torso and her fingers pressed into the fur of his chest, his mate was riding with her younger brother.

He glanced over at them, Jayce's flashy red-and-black bike glinting in the sunlight, but Tamerin had her earring scanner switched on and was too busy squinting into the distance to notice him. Looking forward again, Throttle revved his engine before starting down the hill. The other two bikes followed him closely, and just before the rumble of the three engines blended together in a unique, loud harmony that drowned out pretty much everything else, his sharp ears picked up the sound of Vinnie releasing a long, content kind of sigh.

Throttle couldn't help looking over at the white mouse with a grin as the bright red bike kept pace at his right, knowing exactly what was on his mind. This was the way things should be--the way they were meant to be. Riding out in the open wind, carefree and with no restraints. No war. And no worries.

Well, almost no worries.

They rode across a flat, relatively smooth expanse of ground for a while, but there wasn't any sign of trouble. No fresh tracks, no debris, no tell-tale columns of smoke in the distance. Tamerin continued to scrutinize every dip, slope and mound for any sign of heat or recent activity through the blue beam across her eyes--when she wasn't grousing at Jayce to quit screwing around.

The young thrill-seeker kept making sharp turns, or putting on sudden bursts of speed, or turning in a circle just for the sake of sending a cloud of sand flying. Throttle simply chuckled at his behavior...because he and Vinnie were doing the same thing.

"I'm glad we're taking this job so seriously," the former general muttered.

Jayce snickered and sped up again. "You sound a little tense there, Tam."

"Have you ever had an erection for an entire week?" Tamerin asked testily.

"Ummm...no. Can't even begin to tell you how grateful I am that I have not."

"Then you don't know the meaning of the word 'tense,' little brother."

Throttle cast her a sympathetic look, and she flashed him a tired smile--right before Jayce deliberately rode over a large mound of sand, making them bounce violently. Tamerin gritted her teeth and managed to hang on, but he almost knocked her clean off that time. Throttle again lamented that it wasn't him she was riding with, because he had an extra appendage that would make darn sure her sweet little bottom stayed on the seat where it belonged.

"Sounds like you could both use a distraction," Jayce noted.

As he spoke, he looked over at Throttle, his grin cheeky and full of challenge. Throttle narrowed his eyes slightly. "You got something specific in mind?" he wondered.

Jayce let out a laugh and gave a toss of his head; Tamerin grimaced and leaned back as his long hair slapped her in the face. Apparently, since they could heal broken bones and other severe injuries in a matter of days, Imeerans didn't worry about safety features like bike helmets.

"You even have to ask?" said Jayce, gesturing to their bikes and to the vast, red-brown desert surrounding them.

"Tempting," Throttle admitted, "but a race wouldn't be very fair to you. Your bike isn't equipped with an AI."

"Some of us don't need one," Jayce responded crisply. "My own intelligence is enough by itself."

Tamerin made a snorting sound. "You better watch it, little brother," she warned. "You're treading in dangerous territory."

"Too late," said Vinnie tartly, reaching up to tap the button on the side of his helmet that digitally activated the protective visor. Throttle mirrored the gesture as he pulled up alongside him--while Jayce suddenly let out a careless laugh and took off like a shot without warning, sending a spray of sand bouncing off mouse and bike alike.

"A little more practice and he'll be as annoying as you," Throttle commented, as he and Vinnie sped to catch up.

Vinnie rolled his eyes and went faster. Throttle couldn't see her face, but he was pretty sure the ripples of annoyance he felt from Tamerin signaled that she was rolling her eyes, too. He imagined that if he could hear her thoughts right now, they would go something like, 'Well, yippee. I'm surrounded by male posturing.'

But it was a lot more than that. Jayce had issued a challenge not just to his skill as a rider, but to the very integrity of his bike herself, and that was _not_ something he was going to take lightly. As if she could sense what he was thinking, she suddenly gave a little purr beneath the roar of the engine, as if to say, 'I'm ready.'

Smiling to himself, Throttle gave one of the handles an affectionate squeeze. Jayce didn't know who he was messing with.

Vinnie seemed to be having the same train of thought, staying close to Throttle instead of trying to break ahead and show off. When the right situation arose, even Vinnie would chuck proving--or at least acting like--he was the best in the name of a little Martian unity. 

They poured on the speed together, but Jayce still had a good lead on them. He suddenly veered off course, cutting so sharply around a rocky hillside a rider of lesser skill would have wiped out. Jayce must have spent more time cruising around out here than Throttle thought, because he knew exactly what he was doing and where he was going. Plus he already had plenty of practice traveling on rocky, uneven, and crumbling ground, since the surface of Malteria was even more challenging to navigate than Mars.

Throttle was starting to wonder if he and Vinnie didn't have their work cut out for them after all--and then something happened that wiped any thought of competition and pride right from his mind. It struck him so sudden and hard he almost lost control and went sprawling headfirst into the sand, but with a shaky breath, he managed to straighten himself out again.

It was like a jolt of electricity focused right in the center of his chest. As out of the blue as it had come, he knew the feeling anywhere: fear. It came and went in a flash, but it made him forget about the race and jerk his head around, hunting with his eyes for some sign of danger. Because he had known Tamerin for almost six months now, and he had never felt something like that from her before. Even when heading straight into danger, the former general always stayed calm and clear-headed.

He wasn't sensing anything from her anymore, and he didn't see, hear, or smell anything unusual, but that sudden stab of panic had to have come from somewhere. He had unconsciously slowed down while he tried to figure out what the heck was going on, and he sped back up again as he focused his attention on his mate and her brother. Jayce had turned again and was heading up a steep slope in the ground, one that Throttle recognized immediately. It rose a good ways into the air before abruptly breaking off at the top, forming a straight drop on the other side. It was rocky and dangerous below, and there was a ravine not far off.

With a loud whoop worthy of Vinnie, Jayce pushed his bike's speed to the limits as he shot to the top of the slope and seemed to take off straight into the sky as he vaulted from the edge. By the time Throttle and Vinnie reached the slope Jayce's bike had vanished from sight--and that was when Throttle knew for sure that something was wrong.

He and Vinnie were only about halfway up when the atmosphere around them suddenly changed. Something was missing, and it took him a second or two before he realized what; he could only hear two bike engines. Jayce and his engine had gone completely silent.

Throttle saw Vinnie frown out of the corner of his eye and knew he had also figured out that something wasn't right. They both applied more speed and shot over the edge, angling their bike wheels carefully as they gauged the rough landing. When they hit ground, bouncing sharply and skidding, he didn't see anything at first.

He didn't see anything at all, in fact. The rocky, craggy ground looked deserted, and as he shut his engine down, he didn't hear a thing except for a faint whistle of wind in the distance. Vinnie pulled to a stop beside him and switched his helmet's visor off, and he frowned as he squinted for a moment. He suddenly sat up straighter and pointed. "There."

Throttle turned his own visor off and pushed up his specs. Lying on the ground a few feet away from them, looking as sad and dejected as a machine without an AI could look, was Jayce's bike. There was no sign of its rider--or of Tamerin. Throttle frowned hard and concentrated on their bond, but he couldn't sense anything from her. Just that vague feeling of touching that was always there when she was close by. He suddenly wondered if that feeling was still there even if she was unconscious, because there was a good chance a landing like that had knocked them both out.

Still frowning, he put his specs back in place and started to dismount--and then the unmistakable sound of a blaster firing cut through the air. There was no time to react; Throttle saw a bright flash, and then he felt the impact beneath his feet as the laser beam struck the ground, close enough to the front tire of his bike to singe the rubber. The reverberations were enough to knock him off balance, and he turned the momentum as he fell into a dive and rolled across the rough ground, hopefully to safety.

When he stopped rolling, he cast a split-second glance over his shoulder, and when he didn't see any sign of Vinnie he faced forward and rolled again. Another shot fired, but it was somewhere far behind him. Chunks of rock dug into his palms as he pressed them to the ground, and hunkering low, Throttle did a quick scan of the area and quickly spotted cover: the remains of what looked like a clunky sand raider vehicle, lying on its side.

Not thinking twice about it, he dove forward, skidding across the jagged, uneven ground and resting his back against the lopsided hunk of metal. His ears were straining for any sign of activity around him--not that they needed to, when that blaster fired again. The sound was huge, and it echoed through the ravine; had to be a laser rifle. Raiders loved those, so there had to be at least one out there, and when a pair of smaller weapons fired in response, he guessed there was a couple of rats, too.

And then he picked up another sound--scrabbling, right on the other side of his hiding place. He heard rapid breathing as a figure quickly crawled forward, coming around the corner to his left. Body tensed and ready for a fight, Throttle whipped out his blaster and aimed. And then a familiar mane of snowy hair and a shiny red jacket came into view.

"Looks like we rode right into a, uh, situation here," Jayce noted as he took cover beside him.

"So it would seem. Where's Tam?"

"Where else? Out there kicking ass and taking names. In that order, of course."

Shots fired again, one of the beams ricocheting off the edge of the fallen vehicle and making it shudder. Cautiously, Throttle eased himself around and poked his head up, just far enough for him to see over the side of the vehicle. He saw another one lying in the distance, almost at the edge of the ravine. He heard movement and saw a couple of rodent shapes moving on the other side of a group of rocks, and just before an all-too-familiar odor touched his nose, he saw a bony, scruffy-looking raider poke out from behind the other broken vehicle and fire the rifle again, aiming toward the rocks.

Grimacing, Throttle scooted back down again. On his list of the worst things he had ever smelled, sand raiders ranked third or so, right behind stink-fish and cheese. It was like how an Earth dog smelled when they were both filthy and soaking wet, only worse.

In the distance behind him he heard the rats muttering and swearing for a moment. Then he heard something to the right, and when he peeked out again he saw a white shape poking out from behind a chunk of stone jutting up from the ground. Laser fire was exchanged between the white figure and the rats, and then another white figure--one with long hair--joined in.

Throttle settled back again, tapping the barrel of his blaster against his chin and thinking. "Looks like there's only three of them," he mused.

Jayce scooted closer to him, his garnet eyes gleaming oddly. He looked almost giddy. "Come on, we can take 'em."

Throttle cocked an eyebrow at his sudden burst of enthusiasm. "Where's that solemn decorum you generals are supposed to have?"

"I'm off duty."

More shots fired. As big of a sound as it made, that rifle didn't sound like it was going to hold up for much longer, and the rats' weapons didn't sound like they were doing much better. He could almost smell the desperation and rage passing through the air as the two races exchanged more fire. This had nothing to do with the four of them. They had, as Jayce had put it, simply rode into the middle of a situation.

Under other circumstances it would be different, but given how desperate--crazed--both races were becoming, he thought it was best for them to stay low and join together, and then...

Throttle's train of thought was abruptly derailed by the sudden roar of a bike engine firing up, followed by the crunch of tires on rock and sand. Jayce let out a holler and vaulted over the side of their hiding place, leaving a dent in the already battered door. "Hey, you asshole, come back with my bike!"

Or they could just run out into the open and start firing at everything in sight while yelling at the top of their lungs. That worked, too.

Throttle was just about to haul himself up and join the furious Imeeran when he heard a faint whistling sound above his head, like something metallic was flying through the air. A second later something bounced with a clunk off the side of the vehicle and landed next to his foot.

It was unmistakable, from the rod-like shape of its handle to the cylinder shape of the core, complete with a row of blinking lights accompanied by a rapid pinging sound. Aw, _shit_.

Gritting his teeth, Throttle grabbed the handle and drew his arm in a wide arc, pitching the grenade back the way it came with a cry of, "Fire in the hole!"

There was a thump as the grenade hit the ground in the distance, followed immediately by an explosion that made his ears pop. Rock and debris pelted the side of the vehicle and a red-brown cloud of dust flooded the air, along with a growing cloud of black smoke.

Throttle hopped out of hiding and into the heart of all the confusion. Through the murky haze he saw the shape of a scrawny rat scramble by, running in retreat as the rifle blasted at his heels. Throttle fired in return, then continued to move forward, squinting into the thick cloud of smoke and dust. Somewhere to his left amid the sound of Jayce's bike fading in the distance there came another explosion, followed by a familiar biting smell of heat and ozone; Vinnie had chucked a flare at somebody.

And then Throttle saw something that made his heart stop.

He was peering through the dust toward the spot where the sand raider had been hiding, but instead of the foul-smelling creature, he saw Jayce. The other vehicle must have gotten caught in the explosion, because there was metal and iron debris scattered everywhere, some of it red-hot and steaming. Jayce was crumpled back against the jutting stone Vinnie had been hiding behind earlier--and there was a metal rod stuck in his chest.

It wasn't just stuck--it had impaled him completely. As Throttle stared, frozen in shock and horror, the young Imeeran grunted and tried to move, but the rod was embedded firmly in the rock behind him. The front of his black shirt turned even darker as it became rapidly saturated with blood, and his handsome face was twisted in pain.

Or maybe it was annoyance. Throttle was having a hard time telling which.

"Dammit," Jayce muttered, grunting again as he tried to muscle the rod free. "This wasn't part of my plan."

Throttle could barely believe he was still conscious, yet he continued to struggle, even though the more he moved the more blood flowed. Throttle heard crunching, but he wasn't sure if it was the sound of the rod grinding into the stone...or the crackle of broken ribs. His own chest constricted in sympathy pain.

His hunt for the sand raider forgotten, he started to take an uneasy step toward the prone figure when he heard another engine fire up. It gave his heart the hiccups all over again, and he was so surprised he spun away from the gruesome scene in front of him. Because he knew the sound of that engine better than any sound in the universe.

The dust in the air had thinned considerably, and he was easily able to make out the shape of his own bike racing off into the distance, hot on the tail of the rat who had swiped Jayce's bike. If it were anyone else they would never have been able to get away with it, but since Tamerin was his mate, and he had freely given her permission to take a ride whenever she wanted to...

Footsteps crunching on the dirt as they hurried toward him made him tear his eyes away from the sight of his bike riding away without him. Vinnie was hurrying over, looking disgruntled. "Damn rat got away from me," he muttered.

He stopped when he reached Throttle and studied him with a frown. "What's wrong?"

What indeed, Throttle echoed dryly to himself. He looked out at the horizon again, but he could barely make out the retreating shapes anymore. Sure, he trusted that Tamerin knew what she was doing, but...it was still extremely tempting to grab Vinnie, throw him on the back of his bike and chase after them together.

Instead he gave himself a shake and turned around again. There were other things here that needed to be taken care of first...but when he looked over at the rock, Jayce had vanished.

The rod was still planted firmly in the hard stone, slick and shiny with fresh blood, but the Imeeran was nowhere in sight. Someone else was, and he scrambled for cover when he realized he had been spotted. Scowling, Throttle took off after him, but the raider careened recklessly toward the ravine and went sliding over the edge. Even from a distance, Throttle could hear the raspy, watery way he was breathing, could sense the fear pouring off him. Raiders were known to be heartless, selfish, and devious--not to mention pudgy, thanks to their ordinarily indulgent lifestyle.

It was kind of strange to see one that was so thin he was skeletal, and obviously in bad health. Even more obvious was that he didn't want to tangle with a strong, healthy mouse. Throttle almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

The sound of his bike engine nearing made him turn around in relief, noting that Tamerin had brought her back safely and without a scratch. She had gotten Jayce's bike back too, and she rode it while the Martian one followed behind her obediently.

"The rat got away," Tamerin reported as they pulled up next to him and Vinnie. "I think I gave him a good scare, though."

Speaking of scares...Throttle could tell by the funny look she gave him as she hopped down that she had picked up on his mood. "What happened?"

Throttle wasn't sure what to say. Technically, Jayce winding up skewered was his fault. He sure hoped that Imeerans were every bit as resilient as he had been led to believe.

Before he had a chance to gather his thoughts, Tamerin let out a scoff and brushed past him, marching over to where Vinnie had left his bike. Throttle looked over and saw, with considerable surprise, that Jayce had crawled over to it, like he had been planning to hop on. Throttle could tell by the way she was twitching that Vinnie's bike wasn't sure if she should let him or take off.

"You do realize you're bleeding everywhere, don't you?" Tamerin said dryly as she came to stand over her brother.

Grunting and panting, Jayce twisted around so he was lying on his back, propped up on his elbows. His pale hair was sticking to the sides of his sweaty face, and his ordinarily shadow-black skin was looking a little ashy. "Yeah, I kind of do that after I've had a metal pole stuck in my gut," he grumbled, coughing.

Lips pursed, Tamerin looked around and spotted the bloody rod still jammed in the nearby stone. "You're crazy, you know that? You really think you'd be able to steer the way you are now?"

"Hey, I helped make that bike with my own two hands," Jayce said defensively. "She's my baby."

"Speaking of babies...would you sit up already? You're going to get sand in it."

As she spoke, Tamerin dropped to her knees beside her brother and helped him up into a sitting position. She looked calm, but Throttle's stomach knotted when he saw the almost fist-sized hole near the center of Jayce's chest. It was still oozing blood and fluid, and he would swear he saw the faint hint of pulse-like movement.

If the sight wasn't sickening enough, the thought that he had created the explosion that caused this...

Tamerin suddenly looked up at him. Her expression was solemn, but her eyes softened. "He'll be okay."

Jayce coughed again as she returned her attention to him, and he leaned against her as she put an arm around his shoulders and carefully inspected his chest with her free hand. Jayce's eyes had turned glassy, and his breathing sounded moist and kept hitching in his throat. "Dammit, I had so many things I wanted to do today," he complained.

His face definitely looked more gray than black now, and there were deep grooves under his eyes as he grunted and winced. It looked like he was struggling--to stay conscious, Throttle suddenly realized. He was battling hard to stay awake. Tamerin patted his shoulder. "You're just going to have to wait until you wake up," she said crisply. "Now go to sleep already. You know I'll take care of you."

Jayce's breathing had turned slow and shallow, and with effort he raised his eyes to his sister's. He swallowed thickly before he spoke, his voice weak and barely above a whisper. "Don't tell Dee."

Tamerin shook her head solemnly. Jayce's eyes flickered and rolled back, until the garnet red of his irises disappeared and only the white showed. His body went slack.

Vinnie looked as worried as Throttle felt. "Are you sure he's going to be okay?"

"He's survived worse," said Tamerin.

Her arm still hooked around her younger brother's shoulders, she took a moment to gently brush his eyes shut before glancing around, then looked up at Throttle. "Can I have your vest?"

Throttle slipped it off and handed it to her wordlessly; she took it and, propping the unconscious figure in her arms against her knee, proceeded to expertly tear the soft black fabric in a back and forth pattern, until she had one long strip. Clearly familiar with battle dressing, she then wrapped it carefully around Jayce's bloodied torso, securing it snugly at his sternum.

Throttle looked at the makeshift bandage and swallowed thickly. "My fault," he mumbled.

His mate frowned and didn't take her eyes off Jayce. "You didn't throw that grenade."

"No, but I threw it back."

"Well, you can make up for it by letting him crash at our place, then."

As she spoke, she hooked her brother's arm around her neck and, like the muscular, five-foot-eleven male barely weighed a thing, pulled him so his torso was draped across her shoulders and stood. She crossed to Jayce's bike, carefully placed him over the seat in front of her, then hopped on, fired the engine up and started for home.

"This isn't quite how I thought the day would turn out," Vinnie commented grimly as he and Throttle hurried to mount their own bikes.

Throttle grimaced silently in response. They hadn't exactly accomplished anything out here. All they did was see for themselves that rats and raiders were trying to kill each other, and they weren't shy about firing at any mouse they came across in the process--which was nothing they didn't already know. Hopefully their actions here today had sent the message that they weren't going to get away with dragging mice into their little altercations, but...

He just hoped word of this didn't work its way back to the military ranks. Otherwise, he knew a certain General was going to give him a big fat 'I told you so' next time he saw her.


	11. Chapter 11

"Sorry I wasn't there to lend a hand," Modo said quietly.

He and Vinnie were out at the edge of mouse territory, seated on a rocky ledge that overlooked the desert below. The sun was setting in the distance, bathing everything in sight in glowing red. After he came back with the others, Vinnie came looking for him and suggested they go someplace while he filled Modo in on everything that happened out in the desert today, and so now the two of them sat out here together, speaking in uncharacteristically low tones between gulps of root beer.

Vinnie gave a shrug. "Tam insists he'll be fine. Says all he needs to do is sleep for a few days."

"Imeerans can sleep off gaping chest wounds?" Modo asked dryly.

Vinnie made a face and shrugged again--carefully, since his pint-sized son was sleeping in his arms at the moment, his little head propped against his shoulder. "Apparently," the white mouse said, as he set his empty bottle down and adjusted his hold on Vector. "Anything happen around here while we were gone?"

Frowning, Modo absently brought his own bottle to his lips and gulped down another mouthful as he thought back on this afternoon. After spending a few hours making cookies with his family, he had slipped away and hurried back to the military base, where he explained what he had seen earlier. Unfortunately, they had him fill out a whole report before they let him go. Modo couldn't believe how many paragraphs you could fill up while fleshing out the details of the who, the where, the what, and the when of 'I saw a rat outside my home and then it ran away.'

He'd gone in to see Rimfire again before he finally left and was relieved to learn that his nephew was going to be released first thing tomorrow morning, so he could finish his recovery at home. Modo told this to Vinnie then, after hesitating for a long moment, went on to tell him about his near run-in with the rat.

Vinnie looked at him strangely. "How the heck did a rat get this far into our territory without anyone noticing?"

Modo gave his head a shake and stared down into his half-finished bottle for a moment. "Don't know. Wouldn't be the first time, though."

The white mouse made a sound of disgust and went quiet. Modo looked at him again, his gaze coming to rest on the innocent mouse cuddled against his father's strong shoulder. Most baby mice gave up on sucking their thumb whether they wanted to or not once their two front incisors grew in, but Vector stubbornly kept at it, falling asleep with the stubby digit thrust into his mouth at an angle. Modo studied his peaceful little face and felt worry creep into his heart as something suddenly occurred to him.

"Nobody's ever acted like they have a problem with him, have they?" he asked softly.

Vinnie shook his head and held his tiny son a little closer, running a protective hand up and down his small back. "No. All our customers love him."

"Even though he's half-human?"

Vinnie scowled and shook his head again. "Almost no one around here even knew what a human was till they met Charley. Doesn't matter anyway. He _looks_ like a mouse, so nobody cares."

Modo had figured as much. He also figured that even if the other half of Vector's heritage was more apparent, it still wouldn't matter. He had seen how their customers--especially the younger ones--reacted to Vector's mother, and it was basically the same way Vinnie had reacted the first time he set eyes on the pretty mechanic. To the locals, Charley-ma'am was foreign and mysterious, and between her unique facial features, delicate ears and vibrant green eyes, her looks were nothing less than exotic in their allure. It embarrassed her and she pretended not to notice, but more than once a smitten young biker had parked himself in the garage and watched, chin in his hands and an enthralled expression on his face, as the owner worked her magic.

There was no history between their race and hers, so there would never be any animosity against she and her family, or against Throttle and Tamerin-ma'am either--barring Harper's big mouth last night, of course. But that was because she was directly linked to Ashlin, Modo thought bitterly. If not for that, everyone would probably react to her with the same kind of intrigue and curiosity they did Charley-ma'am. They probably blamed Tamerin for the fact that Ashlin was allowed to work at Second Chance, too.

With a sigh, Modo drained the last of his root beer and stood. "I better get home," he mumbled.

Vinnie nodded, his eyes on the horizon. "Yeah. Hopefully tomorrow will be a little more fun."

Modo went to where he'd parked Lil' Hoss and rode home. He found Ashlin in her room, curled up on her side on her bed and giving Ako a belly-rub. They both sat up as he came in, and Ako scampered happily into his father's lap as Modo sat on the edge of the bed, curling up in his arms with a smile. Smiling faintly in return, Modo held the furry little creature close and scratched behind his ears.

His gaze drifting over and resting on Ashlin's face, he propped Ako in the crook of his arm and said, "I've got an important question for you, little guy."

Ako perked his ears up curiously. "Yeah?"

"Who do you think the sweetest, kindest, most special person in all the universe is?"

"Ashie," his feline-like son responded, without hesitation. Ashlin smiled and looked shyly down at her hands.

"Really?" Modo wondered, pretending like the answer surprised him. "Why's that?"

"'Cause she always loves us."

Ashlin bit her bottom lip and continued to stare down at her hands in her lap, but Modo didn't fail to catch how her dark eyes moistened. His gaze lingered on her face a moment more before he got up and crossed the hall, where he tucked Ako in bed for the night. It was still early, but they'd all had a full day, and Ako didn't complain as he curled up with a quiet yawn. Modo tucked the downy blanket around him, kissed the top of his head, then headed back across the hall to Ashlin's room.

She was still sitting on the middle of her bed, only she had pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. She was already dressed for bed in a creamy loose-fitting, long-sleeved nightgown. Still trying to mask the thickness of her fur, Modo realized sadly. He wondered if it was intentional, or if she did it subconsciously in her efforts to not provoke their irritable neighbors.

Thinking about it made his heart ache. It wasn't right for her to have to hide. She should be allowed to be exactly who--and what--she was.

Mirroring his own actions from a few nights ago, he tenderly lifted her in his arms, took a moment to pull the blankets down, then laid her back and tucked her in. As he straightened, Ashlin flashed him that shy, sweet smile he had grown to love so much. It faded as he stepped back, replaced by a look of pleading. "Don't go."

Modo paused and looked at her for a moment. There wasn't a trace of the sort of longing he had seen in her eyes the other night. He was pretty sure she wasn't any more up to that sort of thing than he was. She just didn't want to be alone tonight.

After taking a moment to shed his boots and the bulky parts of his clothing, he wordlessly slid under the blanket and made himself comfortable beside her. Ashlin immediately turned and cuddled into his arms, holding him tightly as she settled her head against his chest. With a little murmur of contentment, she closed her eyes and was asleep in a matter of minutes.

Modo kept his eye open for a little while longer, quietly watching Ashlin's face as she slept, but gradually the events of the day caught up to him and he drifted off, slipping away into a dark place haunted by unhappy images both from the recent past and from the present.

* * *

After coming home from their less than stellar desert exploration, Throttle kept out of the way while Tamerin tended to her comatose sibling. They didn't have an extra bedroom, so at first they debated leaving Jayce on the couch for the next few days, but then Michio surprised them both by volunteering to give up his room for the time being.

Throttle was relieved, because even if Tamerin insisted there wasn't a sound in all the universe that could wake an Imeeran once they dropped off into flesh-restoring sleep, he knew he would still feel funny passing back and forth through the living room when there was an unconscious body parked on the couch.

Michio's room was at the back of their home, so Jayce would be left in peace and quiet until he woke up from his coma-like state. While Tamerin made him comfortable, Throttle stayed busy and fixed something for dinner, then helped make a bed out of the couch for Michio. As the little goat-creature flopped down on the cushions and made himself at home, Throttle sniffed the air for a second.

"You're smelling kind of dusty there, kiddo," he noted.

Michio bugged his eyes out, pretending to be shocked. "Whoa. I live on a planet covered in sand, and I smell dusty? What are the odds?"

Throttle smirked, and Michio snickered at his own joke and folded his arms beneath his head--and then let out a shriek of surprised laughter as Throttle took advantage of his exposed armpits. "Give up yet?" he asked teasingly, as he tickled his fingers down his son's furry rib cage.

Michio squealed and thrashed. "Never," he cried between giggles.

Throttle winced and scooted back as his kicking, hoof-like feet nailed him in the stomach. Grunting, he seized the flailing ankles and tucked both feet snugly under his arm, then returned his fingers to Michio's sensitive belly. "How 'bout now?" he wondered casually.

Michio squealed again and squirmed, but Throttle kept a firm grip on his feet. "No fair," he complained.

"Hey, it just takes two little words," Throttle told him ominously. "'Bath time.'"

"Ick," said Michio, squirming again.

Throttle eased up to let him catch his breath, and the rambunctious little creature went slack and gasped for air. "Ako likes baths," Throttle pointed out.

"He's too young to know any better."

Throttle sat back and blew air through his hair as he tried to think of the best way to explain what a privilege bath time was around here--especially considering that Michio had spent the first ten years of his life at the bottom of an ocean. During the last few years before the war ended and for a while beyond, the last remaining rations of water on Mars were pitiful at best. That had slowly changed, until they reached a point where things started to noticeably improve, not long before he and his bros decided to take a break and visit Earth a few months back.

Things had changed drastically since then, and they all had Tamerin and her colony to thank for it. Imeerans could comfortably live in a completely dry climate, but after she moved to Mars, his mate had taken note of how her new mice neighbors were struggling to increase their water reserves and cultivate more plant life, so she had done something about it.

Imeerans might be an isolated, secretive race, but no one could say they weren't generous. The surface of the planet they called home was almost completely covered in water, with only a handful of small land masses, the largest spanning only several hundred miles. The ocean itself extended for many miles below the surface, and given that Malteria was a very large planet overall...

It added up to a heck of a lot of water. So when Tamerin teleported back to her former home after settling on Martian soil and reported the state of things, everyone said 'help yourself.'

And now, a few short months later, they had massive reserve tanks full to bursting with water that was crisp, pure and ready for drinking. If that wasn't enough cause for celebration, Tamerin had brought back a group of engineers, who had worked closely with a crew of mice over the next few weeks, helping them install a new underground reservoir and plumbing system, plus assisted them in working out new forms of irrigation. Now, every last mouse had indoor plumbing, and the local crops and gardens had never looked so lush and alive.

Thinking about how she helped make it all possible made Throttle's heart swell with love for his mate, and he got up and moved away from the couch. "It's your choice," he said, as he headed out of the room. "You can either scurry in there right now by yourself, or I'm tackling you and throwing you in the tub first thing in the morning."

He left Michio alone to think it over and headed down the hall to the back bedroom. Tamerin was still inside, sitting on a corner of the bed as she straightened the blanket. In the time since he last checked on them, she had gotten rid of Jayce's torn, bloody shirt and dusty boots, leaving him in the pair of black jeans he always wore. She had also bound his chest with a real bandage, and she pulled the blanket up to his bare shoulders before leaning over him and pressing a tender, sisterly kiss to his forehead.

She then glanced over her shoulder at her mate before getting up and stepping back from the bed. Her posture suggested that she was trying to give him room, like she was expecting him to come in, so Throttle stepped forward until he was standing next to the bed, though looking at Jayce right now made him feel a little strange.

If he didn't have Tamerin's word that her brother had merely slipped into a coma-like state of sleep so his damaged body could heal, he would have been convinced that it was something much worse. Jayce was completely motionless, and during the trip back he had hung limply over the side of his bike. It made the strong, muscular male seem so vulnerable and weak. Fragile and in need of their care.

As he continued to stand there, Throttle slowly grew aware that his ears were straining. It took him another few moments to realize what they were straining for; he couldn't hear the sound of Jayce breathing. As he frowned and leaned a little closer, Throttle came to the unsettling realization that Jayce _wasn't_ breathing.

He glanced at Tamerin, but she didn't show any sign of thinking anything was amiss. It was probably normal, but Throttle was suddenly taken by the impulse and the need to reassure himself, and he reached out and rested his hand on the prone Imeeran's chest. He made sure his fingers stayed safely away from the bandaged wound and pressed them to a spot a little higher, just over where Jayce's heart was.

At first he didn't feel anything through the thin fabric of the blanket, but then from somewhere deep inside, like it was trying to hide underneath the protection of muscle and ribs, there came the faint but distinct thump of a heartbeat. It was slow, with seconds passing between each beat, but it was steady.

Satisfied--and relieved--Throttle pulled his hand away and looked over at Tamerin; she flashed him a tired smile. They both left the room quietly, stepping out into the hall until the door closed behind them. Down the hall, Throttle's ears picked up the sound of splashing coming from the bathroom. He smiled wryly to himself for a moment, then turned to his mate, who smiled tiredly again.

"I'll be going, then."

Throttle's amusement faded in a hurry. "It feels weird, you leaving every night like this. This is your home. You should sleep here."

Tamerin shrugged and fiddled with the zipper on her jacket. "Where?" she asked. "The beds and the couch are taken. Though I guess I could crash on the living room floor."

"If you're going to be that close, you might as well come back to bed where you belong," Throttle said firmly.

Eyebrows lifting, Tamerin raised her eyes to meet his. "With you?"

"I can behave."

A ghost of a smile touched her lips, just before she stepped closer, rested her hands on his chest and laid her cheek above them. Throttle automatically placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her closer, lowering his face until his nose brushed her hair, her sweet fragrance filling his nostrils. Only it was a lot more than just her hair that he was smelling. Swallowing, he straightened up again and tried not to breathe too deeply.

Tamerin didn't lift her head as she spoke, her voice gentle as a breeze. "What are you thinking right now?"

"Ummm..."

Swallowing again, Throttle tried to picture something innocent, like lying peacefully in bed with his mate. Not that lying in bed with his mate was all that innocent, generally. Especially when they were wrapped tightly in each other's arms, and probably not wearing a whole lot, with hands roaming, mouths probing...

With a heavy sigh, Throttle withdrew his hands and placed them safely at his sides. "Just thinking how fast I can get your clothes off," he admitted, feeling defeated.

Tamerin lifted her head and stepped cautiously back, though she looked more amused than disappointed. "I'll see you tomorrow. Preferably from a distance."

"I'm telling you, I can behave," he insisted.

If this was what they'd have to deal with every four months for the rest of their lives, he'd have to. He'd learn to control himself, even if it killed him.

"I'm sure you can. Me, I wouldn't count on it."

She gave his nose an affectionate pinch as she strode by. "Don't worry about Jayce," she called over her shoulder. "He'll wake up when he's ready."

She headed out of their cave dwelling and was gone. Throttle headed dejectedly to their bedroom and dropped backward onto the bed, where he set his specs aside and stared dully up at the ceiling. He must have dozed off in spite of himself, because a little while later he was suddenly sitting up, blinking around sleepily and feeling like he'd just been tugged--reluctantly--away from the outskirts of a dream. From another part of his home he heard muffled giggling, followed by the sound of water sloshing on the floor.

With a quiet groan, Throttle rolled off the bed and stuck his head out the bedroom door. "Mitch," he called wearily, "get out of the tub."

From the bathroom, he heard his adopted son let out an exasperated sigh. "First you want me to get _in_ the tub, and now you want me to get _out_ of the tub. I wish you'd make up your mind."

"I wish you'd stop being such a brat," Throttle countered.

The response to his annoyance was another giggle--and motor boat noises. Throttle rolled his eyes and propped his head on the doorframe, picturing the naughty little creature happily paddling around in the water, kicking his feet, probably dunking every toy he could find and basically drenching the entire bathroom in the process...

Throttle drummed his fingers on the doorframe for a moment, then straightened up and scurried down the hall to the bathroom. "Whaddya want?" Michio asked crossly as Throttle rapped on the door.

"I want you to get out of the tub," he said firmly. "It's my turn."

He was still sore in a lot of places from last night, and rolling around on rocky ground this afternoon hadn't helped any. Soaking his bruised muscles in hot water sounded like a plan about now.

After a few minutes of more sloshing around, rummaging for his things and muttering under his breath, Michio finally unlocked the door and breezed out of the bathroom. "You've got school in the morning," Throttle reminded him, "so you'd better go straight to bed. But make sure you finish drying off first, so you don't get a chill."

"Yeah, yeah," Michio grumbled, as Throttle playfully ruffled the top of his head. "You know, if you're going to be the cool dad, you need to stop sounding like my mommy."

"You want to get grounded again?" Throttle asked casually.

Michio just snorted and tossed him a smug grin. "What's the point of that? All I gotta do is hug you and bat my eyes and you unground me in a second."

Unfortunately, that was completely true.

"Don't push your luck," Throttle warned lamely, before stepping into the bathroom and locking the door. There were multiple puddles on the floor and bath essentials scattered everywhere...but no worse than how things usually looked after Throttle was done in here, so he absently pushed aside a pile of clothes with his foot and reminded himself to clean up later.

He quickly ditched his boots and gloves and was just about to unfasten his jeans when there was a sharp knock on the door. "What now?" he asked testily. "You're supposed to be in bed."

From the other side of the door, Michio giggled playfully. "You forgot something."

Wondering what he was up to now, Throttle warily unlocked the door and looked down at his adopted son, who grinned cheekily at him in return before grabbing his hand and pressing something into it. He ran off with another giggle, while Throttle stared blankly down at the toy boat now in his hand.

Giving his head a shake, he locked the door again, left the toy on the sink and finished undressing. After getting out a clean towel, wash cloth and biker-appropriate soap, he then started refilling the tub with fresh water. Absently drumming his toes on the floor as he waited, Throttle's eyes wandered the bathroom, until his gaze suddenly fell on the toy boat again, still sitting on the edge of the sink. He turned back to the tub with a smirk...but then, smirk deepening, he reached back, picked the childish toy up and dropped it into the water.

* * *

It was a nice night, so after she stepped outside the place she called home, Tamerin decided to take a walk. She let her feet carry her as her mind wandered, until she was roaming the outskirts of mouse territory, walking the fringes of an unclaimed portion of desert. She was trying to decide where she should crash for the night, though if she really wanted to she could just skip sleep and wander till morning--if she wasn't tired out from being fertile, that is.

Though she noticed that she didn't feel as physically taxed tonight as she had over the last few days, and she actually wasn't--thank all that was right and good--all that aroused right now. Not even her fleeting embrace with Throttle had threatened to kindle things to a point she couldn't still ignore it, which had her hopeful that her cycle, which was already heading into its fifth day, would soon be over. It wasn't uncommon for it to last a full week, but sometimes she was lucky and it was over in six days, and when she was _really_ lucky, it was finished in five. Hopefully, another four months of sexual freedom were right around the corner.

And speaking of those who didn't have to worry about being fertile anymore...she had briefly considered heading over to visit Dee again, but quickly decided against it. Jayce didn't want his mate to find out what had happened, since she'd worry herself silly until he woke up, and Tamerin knew the first thing the petite doctor would ask her when she dropped by was what he was up to. When it came to a truth she didn't want to divulge, Tamerin was an expert at keeping silent, but if and when someone asked her a direct question about it...well, it was probably a good thing she never planned to take up card playing.

She didn't plan on bothering Modo and Ashlin tonight, either. If they were indulging in the kind of activity that she suspected they might be around now, then they were going to want their privacy. Maybe, she mused as she walked farther away from civilization, her eyes on the sand beneath her feet, she'd drop by and bug Vinnie for a change.

That might be kind of fun, actually. Much like Modo, the white mouse wasn't quite like anyone she had ever known before--in a completely different way, of course. He could grate on one's nerves sometimes, but he had a kind of childish energy that was infectious, making him a lot of fun to be around. It might be a nice distraction to invite herself over and goof around until Charley got annoyed and dragged her husband off to bed.

Or maybe she'd head over to the garage instead and get a head-start on tomorrow's workload. That way she'd be finished before Throttle came in, and with Michio off at school and her brother out of commission for at least three or four days, she could collapse in her own bed for a change and sleep for as long as she wanted. And if she was fortunate, her cycle would be over by the time she woke up.

Small stones crunched beneath her boots as she drifted farther away from familiar territory, and she paused to look out at the horizon. She had wandered pretty far from home borders, and the desert around her was still and silent except for the whisper of a breeze in the distance. Along the skyline were rows of uneven cliffs, their height casting long shadows on the already darkened ground below. At night, Mars was a completely different creature than it was during the day, shedding its reddish-brown palette for a silvery-blue one.

Despite the late hour, it was still bright enough to see. The sun had a unique habit of shining its light from the horizon long after it had set, casting a whiteish glow up into the sky. As the light receded, the blue-black of the sky slowly deepened, and hints of pale white and yellow stars were already trying to peek through. As she tilted her head back and gazed above her, Tamerin let out a quiet breath of contentment. Mars might be harsh at times, but in its way, it was beautiful.

Her bio-engineered race had no planet of their own and were designed to be capable of taking root just about anywhere, but a short time after she moved in with Throttle, she stepped outside one day and took a look around, like she was doing now, and felt something inside her that she'd never felt before, not for any planet she had ever visited before--or even for Malteria, which was the closest thing to a homeworld Imeerans had.

It was like her heart suddenly gave a happy little sigh and said, 'Okay, this is finally it. This is Home.'

"You know, it's dangerous for a lady to walk around by herself after dark."

Tamerin had to give the speaker credit. Sneaking up on her, especially in such a quiet environment, was not an easy thing to do. He had to have top-notch stealth skills.

The being behind her didn't smell or sound familiar. His voice was deep and a little coarse, though his tone was casual. Just as casually, Tamerin loosely shifted her right hand to her hip, just over the holster for her laser pistol. "Not when the lady is more dangerous than anything else that might be out here tonight."

This earned her a chuckle. Not really one of amusement, though. The sound suggested weariness, and not really a physical kind of weariness. "Mind if we talk for a while?" the stranger behind her asked, in the same casual--almost familiar--tone. "It's been a while since I got to enjoy such pretty company."

Tamerin turned around--and felt like she'd just been punched in the stomach. The speaker eyed her, the crooked smile he gave hinting that he had been expecting her to react that way. Tamerin had no doubt in her mind that he had.

Her throat worked for a moment before she was able to swallow back the tightness inside it. Slowly, she nodded her head. "Yes. You and I need to talk. You and I have needed to talk for a long, long time."


	12. Chapter 12

_How can I see through your eyes my destiny?_  
_I fall apart, you bleed for me_  
_How can I see through your eyes our worlds collide?_  
_Open your heart, to close our great divide_  
~Our Great Divide;  Tarja

Ashlin's bedroom was warm when Modo woke suddenly, but he felt a shiver run through him as he opened his eye and blinked for a moment. He'd been having a horrible dream. Ashlin had decided that she was never going to fit in among mousekind and was done trying. She packed up her meager belongings and swept out of their home, destination anywhere and nowhere, as long as it wasn't here. Modo tried to chase after her, but no matter how fast he moved, he couldn't catch up. She just kept walking farther and farther away from him, until she was only a small dot fading away in the distance...

Only a dream, he reminded himself as he tightened his hold on the petite Martian sleeping in his arms. The sudden movement made her stir, and a moment later her eyes slowly opened and she smiled sleepily at him. Releasing a content little murmur, she cuddled even closer to him and rested her cheek on his shoulder. "I like waking up in your arms," she commented, her tone soft and shy. "I want to wake up in them every morning."

The thought made him smile as he settled comfortably against her. "That might be nice," he mused, his hand drifting down to rest on the small of her back. Of course, that would mean they'd have to go to sleep in each other's arms every night...but he was pretty sure that was a step they were both ready to take.

Ashlin seemed to be having the same line of thought, because her expression softened as she lifted her face and brushed her mouth against his. Modo kissed her back for a moment, then lovingly nuzzled her face with a quiet exhale of breath. Smiling, Ashlin playfully kissed his nose, then snaked her arms around his neck and held him tightly as her mouth returned to his. Underneath the blankets their bodies pressed together, until he could feel the warmth of her fur and the beat of her heart through the thin fabric of her nightgown.

It was a kind of closeness that made his own heart thump soundly, especially as the kiss they were sharing deepened rapidly, until he was gliding the tip of his tongue over the surface of her smaller one. Ashlin let out a small sigh of pleasure, and Modo felt a thrill shiver through him as he pulled back, just enough so their mouths broke apart.

He was pretty sure he knew her current frame of mind, but the gentleman inside him insisted that he give her fair warning anyway. "If this keeps goin' the way it's goin', it's gonna be awful hard for me to stop in a minute."

Ashlin merely smiled shyly, the same desire and trust he had seen the other night glowing in her dark eyes. "That's fine. I don't want you to stop."

She held him even tighter and kissed him again, and Modo wanted more than anything to just close his eye and get lost in this moment with her, but a sudden thought made him pull away again. "What about Ako?" he wondered with a frown.

The small Martian nuzzled down his throat, then lightly nipped at his collarbone. "It's still early," she murmured. "He won't be awake for hours yet."

She was probably right, but even if he woke up, Ako was too light to trigger the door sensor. Still, Modo planned to keep things quiet so they didn't disturb him. At least, he hoped he could keep Ashlin--and himself--acceptably hushed.

Ashlin kissed him again, and all other thought quickly drained from his mind until his only focus was her. His hands seemed to move at their own accord, caressing her through her nightgown as they drifted down her torso. Before he knew it he had lifted the soft fabric up over her head and Ashlin's bare form was pressing against him, her legs entwining with his.

Breath quickening, Modo nudged her away from him a little, just enough to make room between their torsos for his hands as he glided them over her sides and up to her chest. His mouth never leaving hers, he gently massaged her full breasts, making her release a quiet moan. The sound sent another thrill through him, and he was seized with the desire to have her make it again. Over and over--as many times as she could stand. He wanted to make her feel so good she was crying it out at the top of her lungs.

So much for hoping to keep things hushed.

Spurred by this new desire, he slipped his tail down her thigh and then, almost shocked with his own boldness, drew the tip along the outside of her bottoms and teased it between her legs.

Ashlin awarded him with another moan of pleasure as she shuddered in delight--and that was when the front door buzzed.

Modo pulled away from her mouth and dropped his head to her shoulder with an angry groan, and he had to clench his teeth to keep from breaking his promise to his mama about always keep his language squeaky-clean as a torrent of expletives flooded his mind. With a groan of her own, Ashlin wiggled out of his arms and sat up, pushing her bangs back from her eyes. "It's so early," she complained, her annoyance as plain as his own. "Who could it be and what could they want at this hour?"

Modo just hoped it wasn't someone delivering the sort of news he got yesterday. He didn't think his nerves could handle any more unpleasant surprises.

"Whoever it is," he sighed, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, "it's gotta be important or they wouldn't be here this early."

Leaving Ashlin was the absolute last thing he wanted to do right now, but he forced his bare feet into motion and out the door. "Better get dressed," he called over his shoulder as he headed down the hall.

When he unlocked the front door and it swished open, he experienced a moment of déjà vu as he found Tamerin waiting outside. Only she looked even worse than she did when she stopped by yesterday. There were purplish shadows under her eyes, her eyelids were drooping until they were almost half-closed, and her face was drawn.

Her expression was carefully controlled and didn't give anything away other than she was worn out, but all of Modo's instincts suddenly knotted up and told him that whatever she was about to say, it was going to make him very, very unhappy.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume that whatever you're here to tell me is as bad or worse than what you came here to tell me yesterday," he said grimly.

The Imeeran's eyes flicked away from his face and focused on a spot somewhere on his chest. Like she didn't want to meet his gaze. "I need to talk to Ash."

Modo frowned, puzzled. "She's...just wakin' up," he said vaguely. "Why? What's goin' on?"

Tamerin gave her head a shake and didn't answer as she dropped her gaze to her feet. A moment later Ashlin scurried into the room, dressed for the day, and came to stand at Modo's side. "Tam?" she said, her face lining with concern. "What's wrong?"

Tamerin lifted her head and looked at the gentle Martian for a moment. "I met someone out in the desert last night," she began, in a voice that sounded even more tired than she looked. "Someone who very much wants to talk to you. He was going to try and contact you directly, but then he thought better of it and decided to reach you through a third party first."

Ashlin frowned, brow furrowing in confusion. "I don't understand. Who is he and what does he want?"

Tamerin's solemn gaze shifted to Modo briefly before she answered. "He's a rat. And he says he's your father."

* * *

Several minutes before she reached Second Chance Garage, Throttle felt Tamerin's mind stretch out and connect with his--and the deluge of emotion that rushed into him almost bowled him over. Her mood was all over the map and then some, with so many different feelings swelling and fading like the ebb and flow of a tide, he had no idea what the core emotion was right now, or what might have set all this off.

Joke as she might about being too emotional, in the time that he'd known her he had never experienced something like this through their bond before. He turned away from his work as she came closer, wondering just what kind of state she was going to be in when she came inside the garage. She didn't cry very often, but he half-expected her to drag herself in with tears in her eyes.

Instead, she breezed through the front door dry-eyed and as disheveled as he had ever seen her. Her clothes were wrinkled, her boots were covered in red dust, her hair was tangled, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Without saying hello to anyone, she marched straight to her locker, and as she swept past him, her unique fragrance greeted him.

The tempting scent of her fertility lingered, but underneath it, she kind of smelled like it would do her good to make like him and Mitch and indulge in a little tub time.

Throttle watched as she looked over the list stuck to the door of her locker, the one Charley had made up laying out her jobs for the day. Since they'd all taken a break yesterday, all their workloads were heavier than usual, and from across the garage came the sound of welding as Charley rushed to finish up the bikes that were scheduled to be picked up today.

With a sudden grimace, like her list of jobs for today put a sour taste in her mouth, Tamerin stepped back from her locker and turned around, her eyes drifting across the room until they rested on the white mouse bent over the workbench at the back. "You busy, Mr. Davidson?"

Vinnie straightened up and turned around, looking bewildered. "You talkin' to me?"

"Who're you, Robert De Niro? Never mind, it was a rhetorical question anyway--you only ever _look_ like you're busy. You want to blow this joint and play some root beer pong or something?"

Vinnie let out a laugh, though he looked as bewildered as before. "What's root beer pong?"

"It's just like beer pong, except with root beer."

That was explanation enough for Vinnie. Throttle watched, feeling a pang of jealousy, as his bro hastily abandoned his work and followed the willowy Imeeran to the exit. "Am I invited too?" he wondered.

"Nope," Tamerin said crisply. "Mice who don't secretly wish I was naked right now only."

With a pert frown, Throttle watched enviously as the two of them scurried out of the garage, giddy as a couple of school kids skipping class. Adjusting his specs, he called after them, "That was only a lucky guess, right?"

* * *

Modo was in such a state of shock, he was tempted to slap himself across the face to see if he was dreaming. It went against every last fiber of his being to associate with rats--full-blooded, nasty-minded, back-stabbing rats--and yet here he was. Heading out into the desert, far from the safety of mouse borders, so he could meet with a rat on neutral ground.

As far as he was concerned, it didn't matter what kind of ground you stood on when it came to a rat. He didn't believe or trust this for a minute, and the last thing he wanted was for this to go any farther...but Ashlin said that she at least wanted to meet him, and if Modo didn't want to come along she'd go alone. Like he'd even consider letting her go by herself.

Modo tried to warn her before they left to keep her guard up no matter what, because they had no proof that what he was saying was true--and even if it was, what were his motivations for suddenly showing up like this?

Ashlin had quietly agreed to stay skeptical, but she also pointed out that, if he really was her father, he had no way of finding her until now. She'd only been living on Mars for the last few months, so it was possible he had only just learned she was here. That might be so, but Modo had to wonder that if all he really wanted was to meet his daughter, then where was he when she was a baby, and left to die out in the desert?

He kept this thought to himself during the ride out, knowing that Ashlin was probably thinking the same thing. She was too smart to be fooled by any pretty lies, no matter how convincing they were.

When they reached the place Tamerin had given them directions for before they left, Modo pulled up next to a rocky outcropping that jutted forward a little, almost making a lean-to formation. In the shade it created was a set of old metal storage crates. No one was around, but as Modo parked and the two of them dismounted, his ears picked up the sound of a motor in the distance.

Both he and Ashlin turned to face the horizon, where a vehicle was approaching from the south. It was just a glint in the sunlight at first, but it drew rapidly closer, the hum of the engine higher-pitched than most. It wasn't until it was about thirty feet away that Modo was able to make out the shape of a slender, two-wheeled motorcycle, colored the same dusty red as the sand of Mars.

It was a bike designed solely for speed. It was all curves and no angles, and the handlebars were designed to sit so low the rider had to hunch forward, while their legs curved back farther than they would if they were sitting normally. A protective windshield curved around the rider, guarding them from dirt and sand--and blaster fire, judging by the thickness of it.

With the windshield in the way it wasn't really possible for the rider to fire back. It was the kind of bike design that was strictly for evasive maneuvers--a strange tactic for a rat. Assuming that this was the rat they came out here to meet.

This silent question was answered a few short moments later, when the sleek bike pulled shrilly to a stop a few feet away from them and the rider dismounted. A thick tail covered in a sparse layer of coarse hairs swished behind him as he nudged the kickstand down with a heavy boot--a necessity when your bike wasn't smart enough to stay upright on its own.

The rider wore a black helmet with a cloudy silver visor that hid his face, until he raised clawed hands and lifted the helmet off. Modo felt like his heart had turned clean over, while Ashlin let out a quiet gasp.

Whatever lies this being might be getting ready to unleash, there was one fact that was undeniable just by looking at him. He was undoubtedly Ashlin's father.

The resemblance was as strong as it was striking. He had the exact same shade of golden brown fur, the same deep black eyes. Even much more subtle things stood out to him, from the shape of his long fingers to the way his thick tail twitched behind him--just like Ashlin's did when she was nervous.

Ashlin suddenly took a step forward; Modo automatically shot his hand out and grabbed her shoulder, stopping her. This made the golden-furred rat smile--almost smirk--like he had been expecting something like that. Moving slowly, he placed his helmet down on the seat of his bike, then lifted both his hands, displaying that he was unarmed. He even made a slow turn in a circle, and Modo made sure to scrutinize him from head to toe...but it didn't look like he had any weapons on him.

All he had on was a pair of worn jeans, fingerless gloves and a half-zipped leather vest--no belts, pouches, or holsters. His toned arms were bare, though there was a chain around his neck, the length of it half-hidden in the thick fur on his chest. There were multiple chunks missing from both of his pointed ears, which were pierced in a combination of silver hoops and studs.

Modo couldn't say he was a fair judge of a rat's physical appearance, but even he had to admit that this one looked like he was in great shape--especially compared to the way every other rat he had seen over the last year or so looked. Most were bone-skinny and sickly, barely strong enough to try and fight equally weakened sand raiders for food as both races struggled not to starve.

This one looked strong, well-fed, and clean. Healthy. Modo found himself wondering if he was a rare exception, or...

The mysterious figure slowly lowered his hands, placing them at his sides as his dark eyes focused on Ashlin. A smile touched his face again. "So, you're Ashlin, huh? You look just like your mother."

Ashlin drew in her breath strangely and pressed her hand to her chest, like she was trying to push down the urge to burst into tears. Modo reached for her again, but she shoved his hand away and stepped closer to her father. "I have so much I want to ask you," she said, a tremor in her voice. "And I want you to tell me all of it. I want to know everything."

The rat gave a nod and gestured to the pair of crates. "Of course. That's what I came here for."

Wiping her eyes, she moved to follow him to the makeshift seats, with Modo trotting at her heels--until she shocked him by placing a hand on his chest and shaking her head. "I want to talk to him alone."

"Are you kiddin' me?" Modo exclaimed. "There's no way I'm--"

She hastily pressed her fingers to his mouth, silencing him. "Please," she begged softly. "I'm not asking you to leave, I just want you to wait here. We'll be right here in sight the whole time, so it's okay. Please?"

It most certainly was _not_ okay, but when faced with those dark, pleading eyes...he found he just couldn't say no. Not even over this.

He didn't bother trying to mask how unhappy he was as the two of them continued on together and sat opposite each other on the crates, while he stood by Lil Hoss with his arms folded and a hard scowl on his face. His distrust of this whole situation was palpable in the air around him, and he kept his sharp gaze fixed on the rat sitting so close to the one he loved. But he didn't make a move to try and touch her in any way, instead keeping his clawed hands on his knees as he began speaking in a low tone.

Modo was only a few feet away, but he couldn't make out what was being said. He could only hear the melodic sound of that deep, slightly gruff voice as the rat continued to speak. Ashlin didn't say anything in return; she just sat still and listened. She kept her expression controlled, though flickers of surprise registered in her eyes from time to time.

Suddenly, the rat pulled himself straight and reached his hands up. Modo tensed, ready to rush forward and slam him straight into the sand...but he was only lifting that chain over his head. With a faint smile, he held it out to Ashlin, the sunlight catching on something dangling from the end. Ashlin flew a hand to her mouth as tears flooded her eyes.

Still smiling, her father cupped her free hand and pressed the chain into it. Then, the motion almost tender, her curled her long fingers around it before he let go and stood. Modo narrowed his eye and watched him closely, but the rat remained unconcerned by his steely gaze as he walked casually back to his bike and put his helmet back on. Modo blinked in surprise as he proceeded to mount his bike, rev the engine and take off.

That was it? They couldn't have talked for a full five minutes. Not that he wasn't relieved to have it over so soon.

After casting one last glance over his shoulder at the retreating bike, he hurried over to Ashlin, who was getting shakily to her feet. Her teary eyes were still glued to her tightly closed fist, which she wrapped in the fingers of her other hand and hugged close to her chest.

Modo was less concerned with what she was holding and more concerned with getting her safely home. "Ready to go?"

She gave her head a shake and brought her empty hand up to wipe her eyes. "I need a minute," she murmured, sniffling.

Nodding, he put a comforting arm around her and coaxed her to sit down again. She continued to sniffle for several minutes, brushing away the tears that gradually dampened the fur around her eyes, before she finally took a long breath to steady herself. "He told me," she began, faltering, "that all the stories Tamerin heard when she found me aren't true. Nobody knew anything about me except rumors, and rumors just give way to more rumors, so..."

She swallowed thickly before continuing, her eyes still on her closed hand. "He said--he said that I'm no product of assault or some selfish affair. He said he and my mother loved each other."

Before he could stop himself, Modo made a low sound of disbelief--and disgust--in his throat. Though not low enough that Ashlin didn't hear. And as her head suddenly snapped up, her dark eyes blazing, he knew he had just stepped in it--big time.

"Is that so hard to believe?" she demanded sharply.

Taken aback, Modo fumbled to reply. "Honestly, without any real proof..."

He trailed off as her gaze hardened. It chilled him a little, deep inside. "Aren't _I_ proof enough?" she asked lowly.

Modo felt his heart sink. Whatever that rat had told her, she had bought every last word. "No, darlin'," he said quietly. "I'm afraid that doesn't prove a thing."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Because you'd never just believe the possibility that a rat and a mouse could love each other, right?"

Recognizing the dangerous territory he was treading in, he quickly gave his head a shake. "That's not--"

With an angry huff, Ashlin rose to her feet, her expression turning even harder. "Even if I was the exact same person I am right now, if I was a full-blooded rat, you wouldn't love me at all, would you," she accused. "You would have never had anything to do with me."

Modo quickly got up and reached for her; she jerked away from his grasp with a scowl. "Let's not do this," he pleaded. "We're both tired and in shock. Let's just go home for now. We can talk about this more later, after our heads clear a little."

Ashlin's gaze didn't soften. "I may have forgiven you," she said darkly, "but don't think for a second that I'm ever going to forget how you acted the first time you saw me."

Bringing that up now cut at his heart, and he didn't bother to hide the pain as it etched across his face. "You know that if I'd had any idea what kind of girl you are, I'd have never acted the way I did. I'd have blushed till it hurt just to take your hand and ask for your name, because you're everything I ever wanted and more."

Her stony expression finally melted--just a little. Her eyes remained hard--accusing--as she suddenly extended her hand and uncurled her fingers, palm up. "If he's lying," she said, as the light caught the silver chain, "if he was really a rapist, or my mother was some bored mouse trying to make her parents angry, then why would he have this? Why would he have kept it all these years?"

Modo blinked a couple of times, but what lay in the center of her palm didn't change. At the end of the chain was a round pendant, the surface slightly concave, like a locket without a cover. And attached to the tarnished metal surface was the photo of a smiling mouse.

It was an image that triggered the same kind of somersault in his chest he had felt earlier, because the resemblance was undeniable. Ashlin had her father's coloring and eyes, but she had her mother's looks.

The mouse captured on the pendant had fur that was a light sandy brown, so pale it almost had a peach undertone, but her long hair was the same rich dark brown as Ashlin's. They both had the same sort of slope to their foreheads, the same nose, identically shaped ears. The picture looked like it had been taken when she was around Ashlin's age, and at a glance the two could easily be mistaken for sisters--or each other.

While he studied the image, the sweet smile on the young mouse's face, the innocent way she had her head tilted, Ashlin was scrutinizing his expression. For what, he wasn't quite sure. "Well?" she finally pressed.

Modo could only shake his head. "I don't know, darlin'. I just don't know."

With a heavy sigh, Ashlin closed her fingers and rubbed her other hand over her eyes for a moment. "Let's just go home for now. I need to think."

Modo was only too glad to comply, but during the ride back, he couldn't shake the feeling that it didn't really matter where they went. There was no getting away from the changes that had been made to their lives today. Like it or not, whatever consequences that had been set into motion were here to stay.


	13. Chapter 13

The basic rules of root beer pong were the about the same as beer pong. The players set up a collection of cups on either end of a long table, usually in a triangular pattern, like a set of cue balls for a game of pool, or bowling pins. Each cup was then filled almost to the top with liquid (in this case, non-alcoholic root beer) and the players would proceed to pitch ping-pong balls at their opponents cups. Each time a ball landed cleanly in a cup, the other player had to drink that cup's contents.

It was a game that made a lot more sense when you actually played with beer, since by the end of it the loser would probably be pretty drunk, but in this version, which player was the actual winner was kind of sketchy when you considered that one of the players was happiest when the other player scored a hit.

Regardless, Vinnie still wanted to know who was ahead.

Tamerin laughed and said, "I don't think it really matters," as she watched him duck under the table to pick up all the cups she'd just knocked over.

After the two of them had run out of the garage, they'd hopped on Vinnie's bike and rode to his and Charley's place, where they set up their little 'game' on a table in the rec room. They found a stash of plastic cups in the kitchen, but they weren't able to locate any ping-pong balls...so they decided to use golf balls as a substitute.

Why he and Charley had an unopened package of cheap golf balls lying around Tamerin didn't know, but as long so they weren't actually playing golf, she didn't really care. Charley, on the other hand, was no doubt going to care a great deal when she saw the gigantic mess they were making, so Tamerin was going to make sure to wrestle Vinnie into helping clean every last drop of sticky beverage up before Charley came home.

As for who was winning...she was definitely better at landing her throws in the root beer-filled cups than Vinnie was, but since Vinnie was so delighted to guzzle down whatever didn't splash out of the cup and onto the table or floor, there really wasn't much point in keeping any kind of real score.

Still, she was glad that his tosses didn't hit home very often, because she really wasn't that big a fan of root beer, or any other soft drink for that matter. Whether she sipped slowly or chugged it down, the carbonation always made her sneeze--which always made Vinnie laugh. Not that sneezing was particularly funny, but she was pretty sure that once he had enough sugar in his system, he would crack up if you were reading him the phone book.

As she reached for a dry golf ball for her next turn, Tamerin looked down as she heard a splashing sound and frowned at the puddle underneath her boot. "Things are looking a little lake-like under the table," she noted.

"Again?" Vinnie complained. "I just mopped it up a few minutes ago."

"More like a half an hour ago. And you know the agreement; you mop up my side and I mop up yours."

Her volume of mopping was far larger than his, since he usually missed, while her tosses wound up resembling a game of bowling. Grumbling, Vinnie grabbed a handful of already sodden towels and came around to her side of the table. "Don't know why I let you boss me around," he muttered. "We ain't even married."

"Hey, you either keep things clean now, or you get an earful from the wife and then have to clean everything up anyway later."

He continued to glare down at the collection of fizzing puddles at his feet, like he was trying to make up his mind, so Tamerin decided to make it for him and to, in a manner of speaking, answer his previous question. With a nonchalant air, she snagged the waistband at the back of his pants and lifted abruptly, making his feet leave the floor and his torso flop forward. "Might as well tidy up while you're at it," she said smoothly, as the grimacing white mouse planted his hands on the floor to keep his nose from coming in contact with the hard stone.

"You don't do wonders for a mouse's pride, Tam."

"I know. Now blot, don't wipe. That just makes a bigger mess."

Vinnie muttered unhappily under his breath, but he grudgingly slapped the towel through the puddles, while Tamerin watched with as stern of an expression as she could manage. He was only about halfway done when her wrist communicator suddenly beeped. She absently checked the readout--and pulled herself straight in surprise.

Vinnie let out a startled yelp as she suddenly let go. " _Ouch_. Thanks, now I'm soaked in root beer."

"Sounds like you're in heaven. Excuse me, I have to answer this."

She hurried out of the room and around the corner, where she rested her back against the wall and double-checked the readout. Each wrist band had an ID number, which would display on the tiny screen next to the invisible speaker when a signal came through. Everyone in the military was required to memorize every active communicator ID number, in case they ever fell into enemy hands. Tamerin knew every number of every soldier who had ever operated under her as well as every number of all her superior officers. Now that she was retired and living on another planet she was rarely contacted, except by either Deichan, Jayce, or Trent, and sometimes Ash.

The number she was staring at now was one that she knew better than any other. She had seen it countless times during her tour of duty, right on up until roughly six months ago. Then communication with the owner of this particular number had abruptly stopped, and she hadn't seen it since.

For a brief moment she felt the old greeting, having spoken it so many times over the years, leap into her mouth out of habit. But she caught herself in time and didn't actually say it--it wasn't like that anymore. After thinking about it for a minute or so, she finally lifted her wrist, tapped the linkup button and said, as casually as she could, "Hi, Mom."

"The one and only."

Her mother's words were casual, but her voice sounded funny. A little tired, with a hint of underlying strain--almost like she was trying to hold back sounding emotional. Maybe she had been expecting her to slip and greet her as General, too. Letting those days go was probably just as awkward for her, Tamerin mused.

Whatever was on her mind, her mother didn't enlighten her. After her brief response, a long silence fell--so long that Tamerin almost wondered if the communication had been cut. But no, the readout still showed her mother's number, and would until the two units disconnected. Frowning, she lifted her wrist higher and pressed it to her ear, but all she heard was the tiniest trace of static, like a whisper of ocean waves in the far distance.

Finally, her mother said briskly, "We need to talk."

Tamerin moved her wrist away from her ear and stared at the band for a moment. A strange, uneasy kind of feeling settled over her; her mother never called just to 'talk.' But maybe, she suddenly thought, that was the point. Maybe after their revealing conversation the other afternoon, she wanted to rebuild that bridge between them that had been taken down by war and circumstance, too.

"I'll be right there," she said.

"Good."

There was a faint click as her mother cut the connection. Giving herself a shake, Tamerin turned and headed back into the rec room. "Something's come up," she said, "so I'd better go."

Vinnie looked up from his floor scrubbing. "You're leaving? I say that makes me the winner by default."

Tamerin briefly turned her eyes skyward. "Whatever keeps the badass mamma-jammer from crying himself to sleep tonight," she sighed. "Oh, and that means the loser gets to borrow your bike."

"It does?" Vinnie asked dryly as he got to his feet. "You really should just get your own."

That probably would be easier for long trips, but...if she _did_ get one, she kind of wanted to skip the AI. Not for the reason Jayce turned his nose up at them, but because she had watched up close for the last few months how tight of a bond always formed between a bike and her rider. The nature of that bond varied, depending on the personality of the rider. For some (like her brother) it was almost like a child they had adopted, while for others it was more like the closeness of a sibling or a best friend, while some sort of acted like their bike was their pet.

One thing that remained the same for everyone was the way the bond functioned like a partnership, and any biker who lost his or her ride was always devastated--some more than others. Tamerin knew that any bike she ended up with would probably run the high risk of getting blown up, so...she would feel better on a ride that didn't, even to a small extent, think and feel for itself.

"I'll look into it later," she promised, as she turned to go. "Oh, and don't forget to use soap, that stuff is sticky."

She left the 'winner' to his cleaning and headed outside to where his beloved red bike was parked. Like Throttle's bike, she knew and trusted Tamerin, so as long as Vinnie was okay with the idea, the willful machine would consent to being borrowed for the time being.

And speaking of Throttle's bike...Tamerin had felt a little funny nabbing her yesterday, but today she felt comfortable as she and Vinnie's bike took off across the dusty terrain since it wasn't that long of a ride from Vinnie's to her mother's on wheels, plus they were in the heart of mouse territory. A great deal had changed since the war ended and it was now one of the safest places on Mars, so she didn't foresee danger suddenly popping up and forcing her to put Vinnie's bike in jeopardy.

Not that the shiny red vehicle wasn't used to it, but she and Tamerin didn't have that deep rider/bike connection that was so important in intense, fast-paced situations, and Tamerin knew she wouldn't be able to handle things anywhere near as smoothly or skillfully. All she wanted was a bike on which she could ride hard, fast, and turn on a dime.

Well, maybe a quarter. Okay, a half-dollar. Jayce was the one who could turn on a dime. Not that he'd bragged about it...much

When she pulled up outside the door leading into the home her mother shared with Rimfire, Tamerin pushed her wandering thoughts from her mind, though she couldn't quite shake that lingering unsettled feeling. She dismounted and gave the red bike an absent pat, making her purr quietly in response. As Tamerin approached the door, she heard a voice call from inside that it was open.

Her mother definitely had something against opening doors for people. Tamerin half-expected to find her lounging on the couch again, but when she got to the living room her mother was there, only she wasn't lying down.

She was balanced on one of the arms of the couch and leaning forward a little, a glass container in one hand. The fingers of her other hand were slick and shiny with a clear substance, like a thick medical ointment, and she leaned forward a little more and began applying it to her new mate, who was lying on his stomach on the couch.

Rimfire had his eyes closed and was undressed to the waist, and his tail absently twitched from time to time as Tamerin's mother glided her fingers over his back, her touch so soft and delicate, she could have safely caressed a spider's web.

Tamerin stood to the side and watched silently, a feeling of sympathy and understanding growing inside her. Yesterday, Modo had filled Throttle in on his nephew's injuries, and Throttle had repeated what Modo said to both her and Vinnie on their way to pick up Jayce and head out into the desert...but from what she was seeing now, the young mouse had deliberately understated his condition, no doubt to keep his uncle from worrying about him.

She had already suspected this might be the case, since neither Modo or Throttle had mentioned the fact that, as the guard who came to the garage yesterday had told her, Rimfire's arm hadn't just been dislocated at the shoulder, but hyper-extended at the elbow and fractured in three places. There were also patches where his fur had been singed off, hence the bandages, and there was a sling lying on the nearby coffee table.

But the worst of his injuries was his back. The guard had said it was burned, which Modo had repeated, but what no one had mentioned was just how badly. Every last trace of fur from up near his shoulders to his lower back had been seared off, and his skin was scorched in varying degrees of burns--mostly second, from the look of it. He had been treated carefully before being released from the hospital, but the exposed flesh still looked ravaged, it was so red, raw, and contorted. It didn't look like he needed any grafts, but it would probably take years for the skin to heal enough for his fur to grow back--if it ever did.

It felt a little funny, coming in here during what was actually a rather personal moment, and Tamerin continued to stand off to the side as she waited for her mother to finish. Only once the last of Rimfire's scorched skin was coated thoroughly, the medical container was set aside and a roll of gauzy bandage was picked up. As the young mouse opened his eyes and sat up so the bandage could be wrapped around him carefully, inch by inch, until his entire torso was covered, Tamerin saw a hint of grudging patience underneath his stoic expression.

Only unlike when he was enduring a torrent of affection, there was no sign that he was secretly enjoying being cared for like this. He wanted to do it himself, but for now he needed to rest his arm, so it was with obvious reluctance that he let his mate secure the end of the bandage. When she finished and reached for the sling, he darted out his good hand and closed it around hers firmly.

They both knew that even his strong, capable fingers were no match for hers, but with the same kind of grudging patience, the white-skinned Imeeran relented to him pulling her hand away from the sling. With a small smile, Rimfire kissed her fingers, then proceeded to work his bandaged arm into the sling unaided.

He struggled with it for several moments, as did his mate with her urge to reach over and help him, but it was obvious from the stern expression on his face that Rimfire wasn't interested in that help. And as awkward as it felt to be watching them right now, Tamerin was suddenly glad she was seeing this. Because it helped give her an idea exactly how and why this relationship was so good for her mother.

The ex-general needed to have her authority-complex challenged sometimes, while at the same time she needed to be shown that she didn't have to always be a pillar of strength. She needed to know that she could lean on others once in a while--even if they weren't at their best at the time.

It was a brand new experience for the strong-willed female, especially from her mate. Tamerin's father had been different--very different. Despite the combative nature and strength that existed naturally in their species, he had never been a fighter in any sense of the word. He had chosen to set aside that aspect of himself and had been perfectly happy being a gentle botanist and quiet explorer. Even before the war, her mother had been the one to take charge of situations, to weigh the pros and cons and make the decisions. Dad might have been the leader of his exploration group, but when it came to things at home, Mom was Boss.

Of course, her mother had been much more docile in those days. They had been the perfect pair before the war, but if they had ended up meeting later on, her father would never have stood a chance. Yet somehow, Rimfire had chiseled his way through the layers of ice and stone she had formed around herself and stood at her side on equal ground. Having an equal had no doubt taken her mother a while to get used to, but Tamerin was starting to see how, when paired with the person she was today, Rimfire couldn't be more perfect for her. He was different than Dad, but still every bit her match.

It was a strange thing to be thinking about, and Tamerin was relieved when her mother softly kissed his forehead before nudging him up from the couch. Taking the hint, Rimfire covered a yawn as he headed out of the room. "I think I'll go take a nap and leave you two be," he said.

Tamerin was almost tempted to make a crack about the two of them needing a little girl talk--almost. She probably would have, if her mother wasn't in the room right now...but there was that twinge of meekness again, that want to please her. She really needed to work on that.

After Rimfire was gone, her mother turned to her--with a look on her face that made Tamerin feel uneasy all over again. She almost looked nervous as she gestured to a plush chair on the other side of the coffee table. "Have a seat."

Her tone was authoritative as always, but her body language told another story. She absently rubbed her fingers together while Tamerin sat obediently, then took a step back and perched on the edge of the couch. Literally perched; she sat with her rear balanced on the edge of a cushion and tucked her knees to her chest as she wrapped her bare arms around them. As she rested her chin on her upturned knees, Tamerin felt herself stare almost dumbly.

She had no idea what to make of this. The funny posture made her mother look small, and worried. Especially worried. Which made Tamerin sink back in her seat as that unsettled feeling returned with chilling vengeance.

Their talk the other day had taught her that her mother was a pro when it came to masking her emotions. She could experience a waterfall of feeling and nothing would show on her face. So the fact that she was so nervous about something that it was visibly evident made Tamerin wonder if she wasn't actually terrified on the inside. Or maybe she was becoming so comfortable both with her daughter and with herself she wasn't going to bother masking what she was feeling anymore, big or small, and she was only just that--nervous.

Tamerin knew she could easily figure out exactly what her mother was feeling by simply reaching over the coffee table and touching her with a finger, but she didn't feel comfortable with the thought of doing that so abruptly and without permission. Sure, she did it with everyone else she knew all the time, but...this was different. This was her mother.

Damn it. She _really_ needed to work on that.

Her mother's pensive expression smoothed abruptly, and she settled back against the couch, though she didn't uncurl her long legs. And just what did she have against pants these days, anyway? Running around all the time in breezy halter tops and skin-tight shorts, leaving her slender limbs exposed...it made her seem younger, somehow. Or maybe the aura of youth had nothing to do with her wardrobe and everything to do with being free of the weight of war and having a new mate to snuggle up with at night.

Tamerin gave herself a little mental poke to reign in her wildly wandering thoughts, but with her mother staying silent, they were all she had to fill the quiet. Finally, after tapping her fingers on her bare knee for a long moment, the former five-star general appeared to brace herself as she took a small breath. "I don't know where to begin, so I guess I'll just come right out and say it," she said, her tone calm and even, yet not quite hiding a touch of nerves.

Giving a small nod, Tamerin waited for her to finish...and nothing in the universe could have prepared her for what her mother said next.

"I was bleeding this morning."

The younger Imeeran experienced a feeling like the floor being yanked out from under her and suddenly finding herself free-falling in some strange place--a place where her personal reality and the way it was supposed to be constructed didn't exist. In body, she merely sank further back in her seat as she struggled to find her voice.

"Where?" she asked blankly. Stupidly--she knew exactly where. There was only one reason why her mother would bring this up, only one reason why it would be significant.

Her mother seemed to be thinking the same thing, because she let out an impatient little huff of air. "Out of my uterus," she said, her clipped tone suggesting that this was obvious.

That floor dropping feeling came over her again, and with a low groan, Tamerin let her head drop into her hands. "Oh, Mom. What the hell are you _thinking_?"

Her mother knew the risks this involved every bit as well as she did, and Tamerin couldn't believe she was taking this kind of chance--especially right now, when Rimfire was in far from top shape.

Imeeran females weren't like other females, particularly sexually. Bleeding from the orifice between their legs meant something completely different than what it meant for most others, because despite the lengthy fertility time, their bodies didn't fully prepare for full-blown pregnancy. Instead, the eager-to-be-fertilized egg lay in wait until the cycle ran its course, after which the egg perished and was expelled from the body with a minimal amount of clear fluid.

Unless she was intimate with her mate and she conceived instead, of course. Then, within an hour of when the male and female cells combined, the female's uterus flooded with blood and fluid to cushion the new life, after which the fertilized egg was drawn upward so it could implant itself along the uterus wall.

This abrupt preparation never failed to get a little messy. The uterus always filled with more blood than was needed, until a tablespoon or three trickled out. In short, the sudden appearance of blood between an Imeeran female's legs was an unquestionable signal that she was pregnant.

Tamerin let out another groan and shook her head, which was starting to throb with a rapidly approaching headache as she clutched it tighter in her hands. "Never mind the fact that it's impossible not to know when you're fertile, how could you mount that boy when his back is in that kind of condition? You could have seriously hurt him."

Her mother released another huff of air--a sharp one, and Tamerin dropped her hands and lifted her head to see her mother unfurl her legs and sit up straighter. "I didn't," she said firmly, her irritation plain. "I wouldn't even think of it right now. The last time we were together was before he was hurt--the same morning you came over, in fact. And I wasn't fertile then."

Tamerin grew quiet, feeling a little foolish. She could easily picture that content, satisfied look she had seen on her mother's face that day as she kissed her young guard of a mate goodbye before he headed off to duty. And she could just as easily conclude what had happened afterward.

She had been thinking just the other day about how extraordinarily stubborn male Martian cells were--how they could survive in a female's body for days, waiting for her to ovulate. And now here was living proof of their hardiness; it had been about two days since her mother last had intercourse, yet she must have conceived the instant her body became fertile, so abruptly her scent glands probably didn't have time to fully start exuding their pheromones.

It was all so different from being with an Imeeran male. Since there was such a large window between the female fertility cycle, and because conception had a one-hundred-percent success rate once intercourse took place during fertility and happened within a short amount of time, there wasn't much point in the male's sperm having long life.

Instead, it was designed to perish within a matter of minutes from when it first settled into an infertile female's reproductive tract, where it would then dissolve into all those lovely proteins and enzymes that were absorbed into the female's body. It was this very process that forged the physical bond that existed between mates, and since the male didn't absorb as many cells from the female's body, the physical bond deepened for the female much quicker than it did for the male. As a result, males were often more emotionally attentive to compensate, especially when the relationship was still new, focusing on showering his mate with love and attention to deepen their mental connection.

Of course, Tamerin's relationship was a completely different experience than what she had seen and heard all her life, since her mate wasn't an Imeeran. As much as she loved him, she hadn't thought that mating with Throttle would result in the same kind of physical or mental bond, but she had quickly realized that this wasn't the case at all. Her body absorbed his cells just the same, just as his body accepted and adapted to hers. The only real difference--aside from the fact that Throttle could still be aroused by and be intimate with any other female he pleased, if he were that kind of a mouse--was that the speed of the process was actually reversed.

Throttle had connected to her and could sense her emotions through his antennae even sooner than she was able to sense him without touching him, and thanks to the heightened awareness those sensory organs offered, he could read her emotions sharper and more clearly than she could read his whether they were touching or not. It was only natural, since his sperm cells survived for so ridiculously long before they finally gave up and were absorbed into her system, and...

Like a withering flower, Tamerin sank back in her chair again as she suddenly realized something. Something that somehow hadn't dawned on her before, but now slapped her right in the face and left her shaken. "It could happen to us," she said weakly.

"You mean, wake up pregnant days after having sex?" her mother noted, her voice oddly calm. "Of course it could. It's the risk any female who takes a Martian into her bed runs."

Feeling dizzy, Tamerin gave her head a shake before her eyes focused on her mother again. "Don't you realize what this means?" she asked. "What could happen when you give birth to this baby--if it even makes it the full term?"

Her mother dropped her amber eyes, that pensive air descending upon her again as she fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "I know," she said quietly. "That's mostly why I'm so nervous right now, but..."

She gave a small shrug and lifted her eyes again. "I'll survive. It can't be any worse than anything I've already gone through."

Tamerin lumbered to her feet with a grunt of exasperation. "What do you think this is, a military exercise? An experiment? Not that it even matters--whatever results you get from this won't necessarily reflect what any other female will experience. There's just too much genetic crap stuffed into our makeup. It'll be like playing a game of roulette mixed with monster mash-up every time."

"I'm not doing it as an experiment," her mother said, both her tone and expression turning weary. "I never planned to do it at all, but what's done is done, and now I have to deal with whatever consequences lie ahead. And I'm not your superior officer anymore, so you don't need to offer your frank input on how you think I should proceed."

"I'm not offering any input as your meek little follower," Tamerin snapped, "I'm speaking as a daughter worried for her mother's life."

Her mother's expression softened a little, a smile touching her lips. It was a smile that suggested she was touched, not amused--and a good thing, too. Tamerin would have smacked her if she acted like she thought her concern was funny.

"My life isn't in jeopardy," her mother said evenly, looking more sure of the situation now. "Even if I end up putting something together that'll chew its way out of me, it's not like I'll die. I might lie there bleeding and _wish_ I was dead, but..."

"Not funny," Tamerin groused.

"I'm not trying to be funny. I'm just trying to keep a clear head about this. And look at it this way; seeing what I go through will give you at least some hint as to what might happen to you if you ever find yourself in my place."

"Uh, I _don't_ think so," Tamerin said dryly. "I'm not interested in being turned into my own baby's snack attack. And just what are you going to do if you end up with something that you can't bring yourself to be a mother to?"

As potent as Martian genetics were, that was no guarantee that her mother was going to birth something as sweet and lovable as little Vector. If she ended up churning out some mess of a species neither she or Rimfire knew or understood it could present some serious parenting problems.

Her mother must have considered this possibility too, because she suddenly fidgeted in her seat and glanced away. "We'll address that when the time comes--if it comes. In the meantime, you and Throttle might want to look into birth control methods, if you're that worried."

With frustrated groan, Tamerin drew her hand over her forehead. "What planet do you think you're living on?" she demanded wearily. "Mars never bothered inventing ways to prevent pregnancy any more than we did."

In fact, the very notion was ridiculous. By the time the war ended, all three major Martian species had reached an all-time low in their populations, but now, unlike the other two, mice were rapidly increasing their numbers. Female mice were every bit as hardy as males when it came to procreating, and now, even after all the suffering everyone had endured, nearly all of the many pregnancies that had taken place over the last two years had been successfully carried to term.

Family was valued and cherished greatly around here, and very few adult females--the exceptions being females like Carbine--were still single, and fewer still hadn't given up other forms of work in order to tackle motherhood with gusto. Dozens of babies had already been born, and many happy mothers were already on their second--or even third--pregnancies. Develop methods to slow this progress down? Maybe a few centuries from now, things might grow to a point where the thought would cross someone's mind. Maybe.

Importing methods from other planets was also out of the question, since Martian physiology was so unique. Tamerin didn't know much about the methods used on Earth, but she remembered hearing about condoms once. She also distinctly remembered hearing Charley complain that she couldn't seem to find a brand that didn't break when she was with Vinnie.

And did she _really_ want to cut herself off from the very reason the bond between she and her mate existed? Could she really bring herself to interrupt the beautiful connection that grew stronger every day? It wouldn't fade with time--not so long as they were both alive--but it wouldn't grow, either. As amazing as the link between them already was, their life together was only just beginning. They had so many more moments to share, so much more to discover about each other.

She'd have to think about giving that up--really think about it--but now wasn't the time. Tamerin turned her attention back to her mother--and then she spotted Rimfire passing by the doorway. She must have had a strange look on her face, because he paused and looked at her, then at his mate. "Just heading to the bathroom," he said, with a small, puzzled frown.

Tamerin knew this situation wasn't his fault, but she was still in shock and her emotions were all over the place, and she couldn't stop herself from lashing out at him--just a little. "I know you didn't plan this," she told him, her tone low and a little dark, "but you better make sure you take damn good care of her."

His frown deepening, Rimfire turned and took a step into the room. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Tamerin muttered, as she moved closer to him, "where we come from, you treasure your mate's body like it's your own. You two are a team now in every sense of the word, and you need to act like it. You need to take care of her like she belongs to you, because she does."

Rimfire blinked at her a couple of times. "I know," he said, though he sounded more puzzled than ever. "And I'll try to do my best."

Tamerin opened her mouth to say that he had better do more than that--just as she felt her mother's presence looming behind her. She didn't hear her get up, but she suddenly felt that the mood in the room had darkened considerably, even before her mother's hand clamped down on her shoulder.

Tension sharp as a bowstring filled her. Her mother was irritated with her-- _very_ irritated with her, and angry. And frustrated. And disappointed about something. And all this was juxtaposed against those warm, motherly feelings, underscored with love. Which Tamerin hoped meant, as mad as she was, her mother wasn't about to strangle her.

Though she did painfully tighten her grip as she pulled Tamerin's shoulder back a little, her fingers digging into her skin until Tamerin felt like wincing. She forced her expression to remain calm, while her mother drew closer and put her mouth close to her daughter's ear. Rimfire was eyeing them both with a confused frown.

When her mother spoke again, her low tone mostly masked how unhappy she was while still allowing enough irritation to make her words sound a little dangerous. "I trust you before _all_ others."

Her grip loosened, and Tamerin felt a little numb inside as the meaning of her mother's words sunk in. "Oh."

Oh, great.

Brushing past her, her mother gently took hold of Rimfire's good arm and gestured to the doorway, while the young mouse eyed her warily. "Is there something going on that I should know about?" he asked suspiciously.

His mate nodded wordlessly and led him out of the room. Tamerin turned to beat a hasty retreat...but then she stopped and rubbed her hands over her tired eyes for a moment. Her mind was still reeling from this new shock--as if the one that had floored her last night wasn't enough. She had been trying not to think about that abrupt meeting too much, and this certainly offered a sufficient distraction.

Assuming this baby made it to term--assuming that everything went fine and dandy--this would make her a big sister. Again. After so many years of only having Jayce as her little brother, this was going to take some getting used to. Suddenly being pregnant again was no doubt even stranger to her mother, but still...

She really felt like talking to someone about now. Dee was still out of the question, and she wasn't about to bother Ash or Modo, and until she was positive her cycle was finished she was still going to avoid Throttle. Which had left her with Vinnie when she decided to skip work earlier, and that had been fine. Even though he wasn't the best one to go to when you needed someone to lend an ear, his rambunctious personality was guaranteed to take your mind off your troubles for a little while.

She was just thinking about heading back over to his place and checking to see if he was done cleaning the rec room floor when the sound of her mother and Rimfire's voices drifted over to her. They both sounded agitated, which made Tamerin frown; Rimfire wasn't mad, was he? He had better not be.

Though she knew it wasn't any of her business and it was best if she just left already, Tamerin found herself tiptoeing silently across the room and out into the hall, until she was close enough to hear what they were saying. "But she's right," her mother said, a sharp edge of worry in her voice. "This could end horribly. I could wind up giving birth to something that isn't anything like either of us. Something that--"

"It doesn't matter," Rimfire interrupted firmly.

"But even if the birth itself isn't difficult, we could still end up with some ugly _thing_ that we'll never even learn how to communicate with," the former general insisted.

"I'm telling you, it doesn't matter."

Tamerin edged closer again, until she was peeking around the open doorway that led into their bedroom. They were both standing by the bed, and Rimfire had his bandaged arm out of the sling so he could put both arms around his mate. It looked like the action was uncomfortable for him, but he clearly didn't care as he pulled her close. Something about the way he held her...it made him seem bigger than her. Stronger.

"I'll tell you what _does_ matter," he went on, his tone turning gentle. "This baby is part of you and part of me, and even if we didn't mean to, we made her together, and that makes her more important to me than anything else in the galaxy."

His mate let out a soft laugh, even as tears flooded her amber eyes. "You're already sure we're having a girl?"

With a warm smile, Rimfire brushed a lock of hair back from her face. "Positive. And she'll be every bit as beautiful as you."

Tamerin's mother tried to laugh again, but instead she closed her teary eyes and let her head sink to her mate's strong shoulder as she released a shaky breath. Rimfire held her tighter and stroked her hair with his good hand, while Tamerin silently edged back from the doorway and hurried out to Vinnie's bike.

Good job, Mom, she found herself thinking as she rode away. You couldn't have possibly made a better choice when picking my new Junior Dad.


	14. Chapter 14

Modo was still feeling a little numb, even after they stopped briefly by his mama's to pick up Ako before continuing on home. Ashlin didn't say anything the entire time. She just kept staring at that pendant, drinking in the picture of her mother. Ako fell asleep during the ride home, and Modo didn't want to wake him as he carried him inside, but he couldn't keep quiet anymore.

"What else did he tell you?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Ashlin's eyes had been distant since the two of them started back from the desert, and the faraway look in them didn't change as she answered. "He said they used to meet in secret," she murmured, head bent over the pendant. "Nobody suspected anything at first, but...people noticed that she was carrying me, and when she wouldn't say who the father was, the rumors started to swirl. She refused to tell, and when she had me she kept me hidden until she was able to sneak out to see my father."

She swallowed thickly for a moment and continued sadly. "That's why she was out in the desert that day. They were supposed to meet, but...she was attacked. He's not sure by who, but by the time my father heard about it, Tam had found me. And he's spent all these years wondering what happened to me--wondering if I was okay, or..."

Her earnestness made Modo's heart ache, and he took a moment to carefully set Ako down before speaking again. "But you do realize there's a chance he's not telling you the whole truth," he reminded her gently. "Don't you?"

Ashlin finally lifted her head and looked at him. There was something in her eyes that made them nothing like the gentle eyes he was so used to looking at. Something that frightened him a little. "Why would he lie to me?" she asked sharply.

"Keep it down," Modo warned uneasily, glancing at Ako. "And you know I don't have any idea why."

He didn't pretend for a second to understand the twisted way a rat's mind worked. He couldn't begin to imagine what would motivate anyone to spin this kind of yarn, what they expected to get out of it. Sighing, he gave his head a shake. "Just wish I knew what he wants from you," he mumbled.

With a scoff, Ashlin reached up and slipped the chain in her hands over her head, tucking the pendant safely inside her shirt. "Isn't it obvious?" she asked, her tone cool. "He wants to me to be part of his life. Just like I want him to be part of mine."

The very thought made Modo's stomach knot up. "Ash," he began tiredly, "I don't think--"

"I know you want nothing to do with him," she interrupted tersely. "And that's fine. I'll go see him without you from now on."

Before he could respond, she had breezed out of the room and down the hall. A moment later he heard a click as she locked herself in her bedroom, followed by a heavy silence that seemed to descend on every last corner of their home.

* * *

"So that's the news," Tamerin finished with a sigh. "Crazy, huh? I can't decide which is crazier."

Though the situation with Ashlin's father was definitely more immediate. If her mother's pregnancy went the full term, it would be a whole year before they would have to deal with the results. Another drawback of having so much genetic information in your makeup; building a baby took twelve months instead of the usual nine. Or, if you were a lucky Martian mouse, it generally took only eight.

What bothered her about Ashlin and her father wasn't the possibility that he was lying about Ashlin's origins...it was the fact that she had no doubt he was telling the truth. If there had been any suspicion on her part that his motivations weren't completely on the level, there was no chance he would have ever gotten anywhere near the young Martian, let alone that she would have gone to tell Ashlin what was happening herself.

All her years as an an off world scout hadn't been forgotten. She could go completely unnoticed when she had to, or discreetly move in and out of a heavily populated area without calling any attention to herself. She'd also honed the very subtle--and useful--skill of deeply reading someone during an otherwise casual conversation.

There was nothing casual about the conversation she had last night, but the technique had been the same. While acting like she was engrossed in what he was saying, she had brushed a hand against him from time to time, so faintly he never noticed. And even if he had, it didn't matter. He didn't know her kind, so he had no way of knowing that she could see far more than just what her eyes showed her.

He had remained calm on the outside as he talked, but underneath the surface, his emotions had run wild. It was probably the first time he had talked about any of it in years, and his feelings about everything had been open and raw.

And he meant every word he said. He had loved Ashlin's mother--he still loved her. Losing her had devastated him, as had his belief that their daughter had also died that day. It almost made Tamerin feel a little guilty, knowing that if she hadn't stepped in, father and daughter would probably have found each other and none of this would even be happening right now.

Sure, if Ashlin had stayed on Mars she would have had to live until only recently under a blanket of war--but how would that have been different from living on Malteria? She and the other orphans had initially been safe, since the shape-shifters were only out to kill Imeerans, but as soon as a non-Imeeran grew hostile, that mindset changed. And Ashlin had opened fire on a shape-shifter in order to protect someone on more than one occasion.

And now here they all were, living on Mars at the fringes of a turf war between the rats and sand raiders that was undoubtedly only going to get worse. But Ashlin's father had thanked her just the same--thanked her sincerely for raising his daughter and keeping her safe all these years.

Tamerin had to admit, it was the thought of Ashlin having another parent aside from herself that floored her the most right now. For all these years, Ashlin's mother and father had been nothing more than ghostly entities in Tamerin's mind, nameless and faceless. Now they had both; her father's name was Nitro, and he had showed her the picture of Shauni, Ashlin's mother.

And had they picked out a different name for Ashlin before she was born? Did Nitro still use it when he thought about her? Had he mentioned it to her when they finally met? It was a thought that made her feel strange inside, because it reminded her that she had no claim to the small Martian whatsoever. She had named her, and raised her along with the other orphans, and so far as her heart and mind were concerned Ashlin couldn't be more her daughter...but she had never officially adopted her.

Not that it mattered anymore. Ashlin was twenty now. She was an adult who could do what she wanted and make her own choice. Which was why, as hard as it had been, Tamerin had known that she had to tell her what was going on, even though she knew it would disrupt each of their lives. Ashlin had the right to know, and the right to decide what she wanted to do now that she knew the truth.

Tamerin shivered suddenly, even though she wasn't cold, and curled up closer to the person she was speaking to. With a sigh, she rested her head on his middle as she said, "I guess all we can do now is wait and see what happens."

She grew quiet as she lifted her eyes, but she didn't expect a response, since Jayce wasn't really ready to give one yet. His color had already improved since yesterday, turning from ashy gray to light black, but she'd checked his bandages earlier and it was still going to be a while before his chest closed up enough for him to revive. And she couldn't blame Throttle in the least for the uneasy way he'd looked her brother over last night. It was very easy to mistake an unconscious Imeeran for a corpse.

Imeerans were built for nothing if not survival. Living on a planet without any other form of sentient life, such a situation had never arisen, but Tamerin could easily imagine what would happen if one of her kind met with a potentially deadly encounter, like a random bandit attack.

Once they received an injury that would have been lethal if it had been inflicted upon anyone else, an Imeeran's body shut down to the point where vital signs were almost non-existent, and barring an in-depth scan the only detectable indication that they weren't dead was the faint heartbeat, and even that was extremely easy to miss--especially by an assailant fleeing the scene. Tamerin could just picture how shocked they would be when they saw the victim they had left for dead walking by in perfect health a few days later.

Scientists and doctors who had studied patients after they slipped into the restorative sleep believed that this was a deliberate part of their design. It was their creators' plan that they should live forever, and they had made damn well sure that they would. But they definitely weren't invincible, which the shape-shifters, methodical killers that they had been, had proved thousands of times. After incapacitating their quarry, they would finish them off with a shot through the heart, followed by another through the brain. No amount of sleep would mend _that_.

Thinking about it made her shiver again, and she shifted just a little closer to Jayce as she pushed away the dark memories that were stirring up before they fully formed--and then she wouldn't be able to think about anything else. There were plenty of issues in the here and now that needed her attention, particularly this business with Ashlin's father.

Another one of her concerns was just how far the repercussions of the two of them suddenly meeting like this were going to go. She freely admitted that when she first came to Mars and found Ashlin, she was completely ignorant about everything and everyone. She didn't know a thing about mice, rats, or the Plutarkians, but she had learned plenty since then. And that knowledge had one question in particular gnawing on her mind more than others.

Mice and rats had never gotten along, and when the war started, the rats had blatantly sided with the Plutarkians against the mice. Tamerin thought it was only natural for her to wonder exactly how and why anyone from these two species, while at the height of such deadly odds with each other, decided to ignore all that and love each other.

Similarly, she wondered why Nitro was doing as well as he clearly was, and in more ways than one. He'd promised her that he would go unarmed when he first met Ashlin, so he wouldn't scare her--or Modo--but he had been plenty armed last night. A jagged knife strapped to his boot, holsters snugged around either thigh, and a slender laser rifle tied to his back--and that was just what she had been able to see.

And unlike the weapons carried by the group they encountered while patrolling the desert yesterday, these hadn't been falling apart. In fact, they were in top condition--just like their owner. And she wasn't naive enough to think that he was a solitary exception. There was more going on here than she--or anyone else--knew. But he wouldn't say what.

She had pressed repeatedly, but he wouldn't answer either question--like the two things were connected somehow. Finally, jaw firm and expression grim, he had told her, "Not every rat sided with the Plutarkians."

He ended their little meeting shortly after that. And now she was left alone to wonder, and worry, and quietly wish that it was Throttle she was cuddled up against. Wherever he was right now, she hoped he was in a better mood than she was.

* * *

"Is that the last of it?" Charley asked.

With a yawn, Throttle took another look at his checklist. "Looks like it," he reported. "About time, too."

Finishing up on time today had been a little frantic, thanks to not only having a backlog of repair work, half their team had taken the day off. A few hours after sneaking out with Tamerin, Vinnie had come back--smelling like he'd bathed in root beer and giddy from an intense sugar rush. Throttle expected Tamerin to come back with him, but she didn't, and neither Modo or Ashlin showed up at all.

Vinnie knew nothing except that Tam had gotten a call during their game and ran off, and as curious as he was, Throttle didn't have the heart to abandon frazzled Charley to find out what was going on. But thankfully all the stored bikes had been finished in time for the owners to pick them up, and now all of their tools and extra parts were packed away for the day.

With another yawn, he thrust his toolbox into a locker at random before turning to the little figure who had served as his work partner for the day. "Thanks for all the help, kiddo," he told Vector, who was perched on a workbench with his little plastic wrench.

"No pob, unco," Vector responded cheerfully.

Laughing, Throttle gave him a miniature high-five, then looked over at his parents. Charley was rubbing the small of her back and yawning as she took one last look around. "Need a hand closing up?" Throttle wondered.

"Nah, we can handle it ourselves," Charley said, flashing a tired smile.

"We can?" her husband asked tartly.

Charley smirked at him. "How's that sugar buzz holding up?"

Vinnie wrinkled his nose for a moment as he thought it over. "Still going strong," he assessed with a sigh.

"Good. You can lock up and then carry me home."

"I can?" said Vinnie, tone dry now.

"Ca'y me too," Vector put in eagerly.

Chuckling, Throttle headed for the exit. "I'll let you three work this out," he called, before stepping outside. It was growing late and the night was cool and quiet as he mounted his bike and rode home. When he got inside and left his boots on the mat, he was greeted by a soft light coming from the corner of the living room--and a sound he wasn't particularly crazy about.

He and Tamerin agreed on a lot of things, but music wasn't one of them. While he and his bros--like most mice--preferred that hard rock, heavy metal sound that rattled the walls, Tamerin liked music that was a little less....well, just less was probably description enough.

Judging by his experiences while visiting their city, all Imeerans seemed to be fond of a more electronic, techno kind of sound, but Tamerin was the only Imeeran he knew that preferred this sound exclusively. The more not quite identifiable sounds and effects were woven into the music, the better she liked it, and her favorite was the work of a petite young woman from Earth's Canada, who was described as having an 'intergalactic stardusty sound.'

As he went over to the corner, where Tamerin was curled up in a plump chair next to the stereo, the sugary yet admittedly smoothing voice sang something about her arms getting cold in February air...whatever that meant.

Tamerin's mood had evened out considerably compared to what it had been earlier, and the well-rested look on her face suggested that she had taken a long nap since then. She was dressed casually in a pair of comfortable-looking jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt, and she looked up at him with a smile as she reached over to turn the music down. "It's about loving someone so much you know them better than you know yourself," she told him. "No surprise, I think about you when I listen to it."

Throttle nudged his specs onto his forehead as he blinked in dry surprise. "Are you reading my mind now?"

His mate let out a laugh as she got to her feet. "No mind reading needed," she said wryly. "The blank look on your face says all, even if I couldn't feel your confusion."

She switched the music off completely, filling the room with silence. Absently rubbing her arm, she took a step back--still keeping her distance, Throttle thought sadly. Except...

Frowning slightly, he took a few quiet sniffs. "You don't smell."

Tamerin smirked in amusement. "Well, thank you. I _do_ know how to bathe, you know."

"No, I meant..."

He gestured vaguely for a moment. Smirk fading, Tamerin lifted the inside of her wrist to her nose and sniffed for a moment. She let out a quiet laugh of surprise. "With all the excitement, I didn't even notice."

She lowered her hand again and raised her eyes to his, and he felt a hint of apprehensive excitement through their bond--like she expected him to pounce on her like a starved cat.

Instead, he just studied her for a long moment before asking, "Is Mitch in bed?"

Tamerin shook her head. "At a friend's."

"For the night?"

She nodded.

Throttle wet his lips. "And Jayce?"

She smirked slightly. "I told you, nothing in the universe can wake him up right now. You could drop a bomb next to the bed and he'd never notice."

"Good."

Even though she was expecting it, she still gave a little gasp of surprise as he lunged at her. He gripped her shoulders and pressed against her as his hungry mouth met hers, making her stumble until her back thumped against the wall. Every last bit of tension that had built up over the last few days came pouring out of him, unleashed against her lips with fevered intensity. He rained kisses all over her mouth, her face, her hair, and her hands grappled for him as she kissed him back every bit as heatedly.

His mind knew that it really hadn't been that long since they'd last been together, but as far as his body was concerned, it had been an eternity. He was already throbbing with anticipation and didn't want to waste a second, and Tamerin, who could easily handle being a little rough, didn't want to wait either.

Still, he wanted her to be ready for him, and he roamed his hands over her body as he continued to ravage her mouth. He slid one hand under her shirt and kneaded a breast while he slipped his other hand between her thighs and stroked her deeply, making her moan into his mouth as she clung to him tighter.

Throttle briefly considered hoisting her in his arms and running to the bedroom, but the thought faded quicker than it had formed. Too far. He pulled away from her mouth and nipped at her throat as he whispered huskily, "Right here. Right now."

Moaning again, Tamerin shut her eyes as she rested her head back against the wall. " _Yes_ ," she said breathlessly.

Growling against her tender throat, he fumbled with her jeans for a moment before he worked them down past her bare feet and tossed them aside. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached down to help him with his own jeans, though neither of them bothered trying to take them all the way off. Too much time and work right now.

Working them open until his length was exposed was enough, and as soon as it was free he coiled his tail around her waist, holding her in place as her legs hooked around his back. Moaning lowly, she arched her pelvis for him, welcoming him eagerly while he just as eagerly thrust into her waiting heat until he was buried to the hilt.

No matter how many times they made love, he didn't think he would ever grow used to how she felt inside. How hot her inner walls were as they squeezed him, so tightly it took his breath away. For a second he thought he was going to lose it then and there, but he gritted his teeth and held on. Not till she's screamed your name, he ordered himself.

With another growl, Throttle gripped her wrists and pinned them above her head as he thrust into her roughly, grinding his pelvis against hers in a way that he knew would send jolts through her clitoris. "No holding back," he ordered gruffly, as Tamerin gasped sharply and bit her lip. "You let every last bit out."

She obeyed, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she let out a long, lustful moan. Throttle moaned and grunted along with her as he moved harder and faster, until her sinewy body jerked with every thrust. The pleasure he was causing her hummed back to him through their bond, turning his vision a hazy pink and making his head swim.

He couldn't feel what her body was feeling exactly, but he could feel the frenzied excitement and desire that his actions sent echoing through her heart and mind, just like how what her body was making him feel echoed back through her. It was a kind of unity that almost felt too good to be real, and it robbed him of his breath and the ability to speak as he tightened his grip on her wrists. All he could do was send out a silent plea with his heart as that familiar heat and tightness formed in his groin, begging her to come with him before he lost it completely.

His efforts weren't in vain. Tamerin suddenly tossed her head back with a sharp cry, just as her insides flared with moist heat and tightened so hard he couldn't have held on any longer if he'd wanted to. Throttle closed his eyes and let the sound of his pleasure rip from his throat as his climax seared through him, mixing with her shuddering moans and cries as she chanted his name in his ear. With one final growl, Throttle let his body relax and his head drop to her shoulder, where he panted and trembled for a long moment.

A small part of him said now was a good time to curl up and pass out, while the rest of him said _hell no_.

After waiting until his heart had slowed a little, Throttle opened his eyes and lifted his head. Her face dewy with sweat, Tamerin smiled faintly at him as he carefully uncoiled his tail from her waist, gently cupping her rear in his hands as she unwound her legs from his torso and returned her feet to the floor.

In a reversal of the speed and force he'd just used, he took his time undressing them both the rest of the way, then lifted his mate in his arms and carried her over to the couch. As he laid her on the cushions, he trailed his eyes over her bare form, noting how she was flush with passion and desire beneath her normally snowy skin. In the soft light in the room, her whole body seemed to glow, like it was lit from within.

She was so beautiful it took his breath away all over again, and he lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her open palm, the bracelet she always wore brushing his cheek. With a soft smile, Tamerin's eyes drifted over him in return, their gentle blue glowing almost as brightly as the rest of her.

Throttle had never really given much thought to his own attractiveness, having caught the attention of females since he was young, but seeing himself through those luminous eyes...it made him feel beautiful in ways he never thought possible. His heart swelling with love, he leaned over her and kissed her tenderly for a moment, then propped one hand on the arm of the couch.

As Tamerin wrapped her arms around him and brought her mouth to his, Throttle knew it wouldn't be long before he was ready for round two. She knew just where and when to kiss and touch him, riling him up like nothing and no one else ever could. Her fingers moved all over him, combing through his fur as they stroked the contours of his muscles while she kissed and nuzzled his mouth and face. Using the hand that wasn't holding up his weight, he caressed her in return, gliding his fingertips down her throat and over the swell of her breasts. Keeping his touch feather-light, he teased his furry fingers over a nipple, making her shiver as goose-flesh spread across her skin in response.

Pleased with her reaction, Throttle slid his hand lower, following the curve of her belly until he reached the apex of her legs. Her clitoris was still plump and swollen from their rough encounter, and he caressed it in slow circles with the tip of his thumb, making her shiver again and moan quietly.

The heated kisses and tantalizing caresses went on for a little while longer, until they were both aching for more. Throttle snagged his tail around her waist again, tugging her torso against his as her arms and legs tightened around him. Still leaning on one arm, Throttle lifted his free hand and gently gripped her chin, tilting her face up so their eyes met.

He entered her slowly this time, keeping his eyes locked with hers, watching the pleasure play across her face as their bodies joined. Tamerin's hands came to rest on his shoulders and held on tightly as she lifted her hips to meet each of his thrusts.

There was a sweetness to this kind of love-making, keeping their eyes locked the whole time, that made Throttle want it to last forever. He never wanted this feeling to end, this sense of oneness, of being whole and complete. It made his other experiences seem so inconsequential, made them as pale as morning shadows in comparison. Nothing compared to being with someone who knew you from the inside out, and loved you like you were a priceless gift made just for them.

With a fiery passion burning in his veins, Throttle quickened his pace, adding a sharp twist to his thrusts that had Tamerin crying out his name again. Her eyes squeezed shut and her body arched against his as her climax seized her, and the feel of it sent him straight over the edge.

It was indescribable, the way her insides clamped around and tugged at him, her muscles constricting so hard it was almost painful as her body greedily milked him of every last drop. Freely crying out his ecstasy at the top of his lungs, Throttle undulated his pelvis in time with the waves of his orgasm, until the sensations crested to a white-hot intensity and flares of color like exploding stars filled his eyes.

When the last bit of pleasure finally faded and his senses slowly returned, Throttle opened his eyes to find his head resting on Tamerin's neck, her fingers tenderly running through the wisps of hair between his antennas. Even though he knew she didn't mind his weight, he propped himself up and gripped her chin again.

Her eyes were still closed, and as he watched her face while her breath and heartbeat gradually slowed, her sweaty eyelids blinked open. Her cheekbones were passion-flushed a lovely shade of pink, and her abalone blue eyes were damp with unshed tears as they met his again.

She was still breathless and didn't say it...but she didn't need to. The feeling flooded straight from her heart and into his like a warm river, and the overwhelming strength of it made his own eyes grow moist and his throat tighten. Swallowing, he lowered his face and kissed her deeply as he slid an arm underneath her and pulled her to him.

He knew she could feel him easily when they were this close, but he didn't care. He pressed his forehead to hers anyway, letting his antennas brush her skin as he urged her to feel every last bit of his love for her, until it was humming clear through her veins.

When their lips finally parted, Throttle tightened his hold, sat up and stood from the couch. His mate's arms and legs still locked around him, he started for the bedroom. Tamerin chuckled quietly as she watched him, her eyes looking a little sleepy. "Aren't you tired yet?"

A little, but not enough to stop him from smiling wryly and saying, "Believe me, Tam, I'm just getting started."


	15. Chapter 15

_You make the darkness disappear_  
_I feel found when you stay near_  
_I know where I am when you are here_  
_My way becomes so clear_

_When you're gone_  
_Will I lose control?_  
_You're the only road I know_  
_You show me where to go_  
_Who will drive my soul?_  
~Drive My Soul;  Lights

Throttle had fallen asleep almost an hour ago, but Tamerin couldn't bring herself to close her eyes yet, as pleasantly exhausted as she was. There was too much on her mind...though after all she had just experienced, her thoughts had been cleared of just about everything. In fact, nothing was left except for lingering thoughts about her mate.

Tonight had helped her make up her mind about something. There was no way she could ever give up any part of him, least of all the part that made their bond what it was. Their connection had grown so much in such a short amount of time, it was almost mind-boggling to her to think of how much more it would grow over the next few years. Their time together would only become more beautiful. Bring that physical and emotional journey to an end? No way. Not even at the risk of pregnancy.

They would just have to be extra careful from now on. She would keep closer track of her cycle and make sure they stopped making love at least a week before it was scheduled to start, just to make sure he was completely out of her system by the time she fully became fertile. Two whole weeks without each other would be even more torturous than this week had been...they'd have to compromise, like they did that first night, to tide them over.

Of course, she'd have to explain to him the reason behind the sudden change in habit, and she'd actually meant to fill him in on everything as soon as he got home, both in regards to her mother as well as Ashlin, but...she didn't quite get the chance. Not that she was complaining.

It had been good for her, in fact, to let all that go and just focus on the one she loved, and she tightened her arms around his sleeping form, her cheek pressing against his shoulder as she drew her fingers through the soft fur of his back. She adored every last part of him, from the feel of his muscles beneath her hands, firm even as he slept, to the unique way he smelled. She breathed in deeply for a moment, then tilted her head until she could see his face as she reached up to softly drift her hand over his cheek. His eyes twitched slightly behind their lids and a ghost of a smile touched his lips, but he went on dreaming.

Tamerin absently continued to brush his cheek with her thumb as she thought back on how they had come together, and all that had happened between them since then. She really had to wonder about something sometimes, though she knew she'd never ask.

During the war, she had seen numerous males and females lose their mates and then die from the heartbreak shortly after, even after being together for only a little longer than she and Throttle had been. Her mother had three unique distinctions under her belt, so far as mating went: she was the first ever to take a second mate, she was the first to conceive a child with a non-Imeeran, and she also had the longest relationship to date that didn't end up claiming the lives of both mates after one of them had perished. She and Tamerin's father had met when her mother was only eighty--still young by Imeeran standards--and they had been together until the day he died.

They had been mates for nearly two hundred years...yet her mother had never stopped to do so much as mourn his passing. Tamerin really had to wonder just what made her so different, what had allowed her to go on living so easily. She knew that her mother had loved her mate dearly, but...maybe that love hadn't run as deeply as Tamerin used to believe. Or maybe they had been an unusual exception to a species that was arguably obsessed with having sex and didn't make love all that often.

Or maybe her mother had survived simply through sheer force of will. Tamerin doubted she would ever know or understand the reason, but whatever that reason was, it had enabled her to move on and start the life she had with Rimfire now. And she would have had four unique distinctions, if Tamerin hadn't beaten her to being the first to mate with a non-Imeeran by a matter of hours. Though the fact that they had both fallen for Martians at the exact same time spoke volumes about how similar they really were.

Thinking about it now made her reflect back on that conversation she had with Modo the other day. As fanciful as the thought of them being united in all ways forever was, she rather suspected that when the time came and her mate passed on without her, she'd go on living alone. And would she one day recover and love again? Right now, the concept seemed both impossible and absurd to her, and she didn't waste time considering it. She'd think about it when it was time to think about it, and since a Martian as stubborn as Throttle would probably live to at least a hundred, it would be a good long while before she'd need to.

For now, she let her thoughts fade as she finally closed her eyes, settling her cheek comfortably against the base of Throttle's throat, just low enough to hear the deep thumping of his heart. She felt it more than she heard it, and the soothing rhythm of it gradually lulled her to sleep. The last thought that passed through her mind before she finally drifted off was that she still needed to tell Throttle everything that was going on. But it could wait until morning.

For tonight they had escaped from all their worries and troubles together, and if only for tonight, they hovered in a place made just for the two of them.

* * *

The next few days weren't exactly what Modo would call happy, or fun. Both Throttle and Vinnie were told about Ashlin's father, though he made darn sure that the news didn't go any further than either them or Charley. Tamerin also hinted casually at work one day that Rimfire had news of his own, which prompted him to pay his nephew a visit. It almost knocked him clear off his feet to learn that he was going to be a daddy. Good thing Rimfire had him sit down first.

"I know it's unexpected," Rimfire had told him, as Bevra-ma'am calmly passed his stunned uncle a glass of water, "and a little soon, but we'll work it out."

It was unexpected all right...but Modo had no doubt that the young mouse would make a great dad. In fact, Rimfire seemed much more at ease with the whole situation than his mate, who had sat nearby looking pensive while the two of them talked. They had talked about a lot more than the little surprise, too, which was nice. It was nice to finally catch up with what his nephew had been doing all these months...though he made sure not to mention anything about Ashlin's father. The less the news about that spread, the better.

Before he left, he had gone over to Bevra-ma'am, who had stayed quiet all afternoon, and shyly rested a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry," he had assured her, "he'll take good care of both of you."

The ordinarily stony female had actually dropped her eyes and almost looked shy as she mumbled that she was sure he would.

Modo hadn't been back to see them since then, knowing that Rimfire still needed to rest for the time being. Plus talking to an expectant father had reminded him all over again how much he enjoyed being a father himself, and he found himself doting on Ako more than usual. Not that he had much else to occupy his time with right now, other than work; Ashlin was deliberately avoiding him. When she wasn't locked up in her room, she sometimes disappeared for hours, only to reappear abruptly, looking sullen.

She had started dressing differently, too. The last few times he caught a glimpse of her, she had done away with her usual attire of a looser-fitting shirt over a tight one in exchange for snug halters and tank tops worn under an even looser shirt. It was a flattering look on her filled-out figure, but it left her throat and most of her shoulders exposed as the over-sized material drooped down. He knew she was secretly self-conscious about her thicker fur, especially around their thoughtless neighbors...but now it was as if she had stopped caring.

Under different circumstances it would have made him happy to see her acting more comfortable in her own skin, but as things stood right now, he wasn't sure what to make of it. He wasn't sure what to say or do, so Modo stayed quiet and let her have her space. He didn't know if he was seeing so little of her because she was sneaking out to meet her father, or if she was just mad at him, but...her silence worried him. He tried to remain discreet about it all, but the tension didn't go completely unnoticed.

"Did you and Ashie have a fight?" Ako asked frankly one morning, while Modo was cuddling him on his lap.

"Not a fight exactly," Modo responded uncertainly. "More like a disagreement."

His furry son blinked his large blue eyes at him. "Are you gonna make up?"

Modo let out a weary sigh and rubbed his forehead for a moment. "I don't know," he said tiredly. "I sure hope so."

Ako blinked again, then rose on his hind feet to place his paw-like hands on his father's shoulder. "Don't worry, Daddy," he cooed, "even if you were naughty, Ashie still loves you. It'll be okay."

He nuzzled Modo's face affectionately for a moment before hopping down and padding away. As Modo's ears strained unhappily against that uncomfortably heavy silence as it descended on their home again, he hoped that the little guy was right.

* * *

Throttle let out a yawn and stretched lazily, then reclined back on the couch and looked over at Tamerin, who was tidying up the living room. "Are you done with breakfast?" he wondered.

She paused to give him a funny look, then bent to straighten the rug. "I finished twenty minutes ago," she said, her tone saying that she wondered why he was asking a question he already knew the answer to.

Throttle merely grinned before he reached over, grabbed her by the waist and yanked back, making her tumble into his lap. "Then it's time for dessert," he announced smoothly, as he coiled his arms and tail around her.

"We had dessert before breakfast," she reminded him wryly.

"Well, now I want my after breakfast dessert," Throttle informed her, as he lightly nipped along her throat, making her shiver. "Though I wouldn't say no to a few more hot dogs."

"We're fresh out of hot dogs," said Tamerin, shivering again as he brushed his mouth over the soft flesh of her sensitive ear.

"You'll just have to go pick some more up," Throttle said simply, before teasing the glittering studs in her ear with his teeth.

"That's me," she sighed, as she casually ran her hand down to his thigh and gave it a squeeze. "A glorified gopher."

Throttle snickered, gripped her chin in his hand and turned her face to kiss her--just as Michio scampered into the room with his school bag slung over his shoulder. " _Yech_ ," he said sourly, "are you two getting ready to be weird again?"

"If you were at school, you wouldn't be around to see us," Throttle pointed out casually.

Michio rolled his eyes with an exasperated grunt. "I can't drive _myself_ to school, you..."

He paused and scratched his head, clearly pondering what name he could call him without getting into too much trouble. Tamerin detached herself from her mate with a chuckle and got to her feet. "I'll take you this time," she offered, slipping her robe off and pulling her boots and jacket on, right over her pjs. "It'll give me a chance to try out the bike Charley helped me put together."

Throttle sat up and watched the two of them head to the door, feeling disappointed for more than one reason. "I thought you liked riding with me best," he reminded her.

"I do, but this'll be useful for those times when I need to avoid you."

Throttle was still recovering from the last time and didn't want to even think about the next time they would have to distance themselves from each other. "Are you really going out like that?" he wondered, eyeing the strange getup she was now sporting.

Tamerin looked down at herself with a smirk. "Why not? No one's really going to notice, and even if they do, I'm from another planet. Everyone expects me to be a little kooky."

Impatient with all the chatter, Michio reached over and gave her hand a tug. "Come on, Tammie, let's go already," he complained.

"What's with this 'Tammie' business?" Tamerin wanted to know. "I thought you would have graduated to calling me 'Mom' by now."

Michio let out a playful giggle as he dragged her to the door. "Okay, Tamommie."

"Oh, I give up..."

She waved to Throttle with a sigh before her energetic son pulled her outside. Shaking his head and chuckling, Throttle got up to finish putting away the breakfast dishes. It wasn't a long ride to the school, so Tamerin returned home just a few minutes later, shedding her jacket and boots before joining him in the kitchen, her bare feet hardly making a sound on the stone floor.

She didn't bother putting her robe back on, and the glossy, seashell pink material her pjs were made out of shimmered a little as she leaned against a counter. Her eyes were on the loosely knotted belt around his waist, keeping his own robe closed. "Whatcha wearin' under there?" she asked slyly.

"Nothin'," said Throttle, just as slyly. "You should have a look."

"If you're wearin' nothin', I'm sure I'll be seein' somethin'," she noted, as he playfully gathered her into his arms with a grin.

"Somethin'...dessert-like," Throttle purred, leaning to kiss the curve of her throat.

With a giggle, Tamerin tried to squirm away. "Coffee first."

"Mm-mn," Throttle said firmly, holding her fast and nuzzling her collarbone. "Dessert first. Coffee afterward."

"Coffee first," his mate insisted, still squirming. "Makes dessert last longer."

Throttle let her go with a sigh, pretending to be saddened as she scurried over to the coffee pot, though he grinned when she chugged down half the mug she poured in a couple of gulps.

He frowned again a second later as his ears suddenly picked up movement outside the room, and he turned around just as a tall shadow filled the doorway. No, not a shadow...just Jayce.

Still dressed in the jeans he had slept in for the last few days and looking like he was only partly awake, the dark-skinned Imeeran leaned against the doorframe and rubbed one eye with a yawn. His bandage was gone, and Throttle found himself studying his muscular chest, which was so smooth and perfect you would never know there had ever been a gaping hole in it.

Despite all of Tamerin's assurances that her brother would be fine, it was a relief to see it for himself. He still felt responsible for what had happened and kind of wanted to do something to make up for it.

But Jayce didn't look concerned with anything right now except for finishing waking up, and he continued to lean as he stretched his arms and shoulders. Throttle was used to seeing him dressed from head to toe in black and all but blending into the background, but when it was exposed, his skin actually reflected the light a little. It had an almost red-brown undertone, like Jayce's entire body had been carved from obsidian.

With another yawn, he ran his fingers through his long hair as he pushed away from the doorframe and gave his head a shake. "So, what'd I miss while I was out?"

Throttle glanced at his mate with a smirk. "Sex."

"Glad I was out, then."

With a snort, Tamerin reached for the coffee pot again. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please."

She passed Jayce a mug, then sat down with him at the nearby table. Though he kind of wanted to get back to talking about dessert, Throttle joined the two siblings as Jayce asked if there had been any more incidents like the one that injured Rimfire. "Not exactly," Throttle informed him, "though there've been plenty of other clashes farther out from our territory."

In fact, tiffs between the embattled Martians seemed to be increasing. That was what Carbine had told him, after he grudgingly went back to the base the other day to fill her in on their less than successful outing. She had fortunately been too distracted to rub it in...much.

"And speaking of which," Throttle went on, as something he had been wondering about since that afternoon popped back into his mind, "what did you two see that day that Vinnie and I didn't?"

Jayce gave him a funny look over the rim of his coffee mug. "What do you mean?"

Throttle knew that Jayce's empathic abilities weren't as sensitive as they were for someone like his sister, but Tamerin had had her arms tightly around her brother at the time. There was no way Jayce hadn't felt that electric jolt of fear from her at least a little bit.

"Right before you went up the slope and jumped off," he prodded. "I felt Tam freak about something, so I figured one of those three must have startled her before Vinnie and I spotted them, or something."

Jayce looked at him blankly--while Tamerin made a strange sputtering sound and almost dropped her mug. Throttle looked at her with a frown...just as Jayce turned to her with a sudden smug, knowing smile. "Oh, that. That was my fault. I didn't warn her first."

Throttle felt a burst of anger and embarrassment course through his and Tamerin's bond, right before her snowy cheeks turned scarlet. "You better watch your mouth, little brother," she warned.

Jayce snickered in response. "It's physically impossible for me to watch my own mouth without a mirror," he pointed out slyly. "And you always were sensitive about that little problem of yours."

Tamerin turned redder. "Jayce, if you don't shut the hell up _right now_ , I swear I'm going to send you straight back to dreamland--and this time you won't wake up for months."

Jayce merely snickered again, clearly unfazed by the threat, while Throttle watched them both in confusion. "Am I missing something?" he wondered.

Jayce glanced at him, white eyebrows raised, before focusing on his sister again. "You never told him?" he asked, garnet eyes dancing in amusement.

Teeth gritted and cheeks still flushed, Tamerin shoved her chair back and stood. She was clenching her ceramic mug so hard, Throttle was amazed it didn't shatter. "I never saw any reason to," she said, her tone low and dangerous.

Her brother shook his head and 'tsked' in disapproval. "Naughty girl. You shouldn't keep secrets from your better half."

Bemused, Throttle glanced back and forth between them for a moment. "What kind of secret?" he wondered.

Tamerin abruptly set her mug down, making the last of the coffee slosh out, and made a grab for her brother like she was ready to strangle him. But Jayce must have anticipated this move, because he was already up and backing hastily away from the table, heading for the safety of the kitchen doorway. Just before he finished making his escape, he called back in a conspiratorial whisper, "She's afraid of heights."

Eyebrows raising in surprise, Throttle turned back to his mate--and let out a sound of surprise and hastily leaned back as she suddenly vaulted clear over the kitchen table and chased after her brother. "You get back here so I can kill you," she hollered.

"That doesn't give me a whole lot of incentive to come back," Jayce called from the living room, laughter plain in his voice.

Still feeling considerable surprise, Throttle got up and headed down the hall to the living room. As he came to stand in the doorway he asked, "Is that really true?"

Jayce was standing in the middle of the room, still looking smugly amused, while Tamerin was standing on the couch brandishing a throw pillow ominously. It didn't look very threatening, but...when the muscular Imeeran swung with all of--or at least most of--her might, decking her grinning brother straight in the face, he was knocked clean off his feet and landed sharply on the hard floor. "Ouch," he groaned.

"Serves you right," Tamerin muttered.

"Hey, I just finished healing up," he reminded her as he sat up. "You should treat me more delicately."

"Says you. Maybe next time you'll keep your mouth shut."

She was scowling hard, but Throttle felt more embarrassment than anything else pulsing through their bond now. He honestly found the thought of his mate getting freaked out over heights a little hard to believe, but...it made a few things make sense. Like how, when she was riding with him, she sometimes coaxed him to stay on low ground. He had just assumed that she wanted to remind him that some of the higher ground didn't have oxygen and she wasn't wearing a helmet, but now...

Frowning, he stepped away from the doorway and farther into the room, where he folded his arms and looked down at Jayce. "You knew about this and made that jump anyway?"

"I thought it would do her good to get a little adrenaline rush," Jayce said cheekily--before letting out a yelp as his sister pounced on him.

"Think I'll kill you now," she said calmly, as he tried to wrestle her outstretched hands away from his throat.

"That wouldn't be very nice," Jayce grunted. "I've got a baby on the way."

"Plus isn't it actually impossible for Imeerans to murder each other?" Throttle added, as the siblings continued to scuffle at his feet.

He didn't quite understand how it worked, but he specifically remembered Tamerin telling him that the urge was always wiped away whenever someone seriously felt it. Though there wasn't any such block when it came to other lifeforms.

"I'll do an experiment, then," Tamerin grumbled. "I'll see just how badly I can maim him before that unfortunate genetic quirk kicks in."

"Well, let me know when you're done," Throttle said, as he stepped past them and parked himself on the couch. "I'd kind of like to talk about why you never told me this before."

With a groan, Tamerin suddenly got to her feet, hauling her brother up with her. Huffing angrily, she spun him around and shoved him away. "Get out of here and go wait for me in Michio's room," she ordered. "There's something I need to tell you--and then you better get your butt home."

"Yes, ma'am," said Jayce, saluting as he scurried out of the living room.

Sighing heavily, Tamerin came over and dropped next to her mate on the couch with a thump. "I was too embarrassed to tell you," she mumbled, her cheeks darkening again. "It's stupid, and you're not afraid of anything."

"Are so," he replied mildly. "I don't ever want anything to happen to you, or to my bros, or anyone else I care about. I don't think I'd be able to handle it if another full-blown war ever broke out. And I live in quiet terror of cheese."

She didn't smile. "But those are all normal fears," she muttered, absently worrying a button on her pajama top. "They're not phobias."

"How'd you get, uh, heightophobia anyway?" Throttle wondered.

"Acrophobia, actually." She gave a shrug and continued to fiddle with the button. "I've always had it, I guess. It's not really something you'd be aware of, living underwater, but when I got older and started scouting the surface and other planets...I started to notice that I'd freeze up whenever I was someplace high."

"But the upper level of the city you grew up in is pretty high," Throttle pointed out, feeling puzzled. "That never seemed to bother you."

Tamerin shrugged again and let her hands drop with a sigh. "I know, but that's different, somehow. It's inside, and deep down I know I'm safe, even if I fall. I mean, I know that even if I fall from really, really high, it's extremely unlikely I'll die...I might sleep it off for a month or two, but I wouldn't die. And being in the city isn't like being on the edge of a cliff or something. In the city, someone might catch me, or at least find me right away and take me to the hospital. Being up high in a place like that doesn't scare me."

Throttle thought this over for a moment. "Sounds more like you have aeroacrophobia to me," he mused.

His mate shot him a weary look. "What are you, a psychologist all of a sudden?"

Throttle smiled and kissed her cheek. "No. Just the one who loves you and is willing to help you work through this little problem."

He felt a surge of aggravation through their bond, just before Tamerin edged away from him with a grunt. "That's the other reason I didn't want to tell you," she groused as she got up. "I knew you'd want to help 'cure me.' Probably by tossing me off the nearest cliff."

"I wouldn't," Throttle said with a grin. "I know that won't help--you're afraid of being up high in open space, not of falling itself. I think it'd be better to take you up to the highest point on Mars, and then we'd just sit. Just you, me, our bikes, and the view."

Tamerin eyed him suspiciously, and he could feel her stomach flip-flopping at the idea. "Why bring my bike?" she wondered.

"So you can drive yourself down when you've decided you've had enough. Me, I might want to stay a little longer."

Something soft crept into the tension, deep inside her. "I appreciate you letting me decide that for myself. But we'll have to save it for some other time; I need to go tell my little brother that he's going to be a big brother."

"Later, then?" Throttle asked casually, as she turned and headed out of the room.

"I'll think about it," she called over her shoulder.

"For forever?" he guessed.

"You got it."


	16. Chapter 16

"So, that's the news," Tamerin said, for the second time this week. Only this time, instead of lying on the bed blissfully unaware as he slept, Jayce was sitting up and listening, his back resting against the pillow propped up on the headboard. Tamerin was lounging on her back beside him, hands folded on her middle and knees bent. Her story finished, she turned her head and gazed over at her brother, who was staring at the far wall. His expression was unreadable.

"Any thoughts?" she prodded quietly, after the silence had stretched for several minutes.

His eyes still fixed on the wall, Jayce said, "You raised Ash to be smart and to think for herself. You know that whatever decision she makes will be the right one."

Tamerin bit her lip and shifted her feet. "I meant about Mom."

A muscle in her brother's jaw tightened, his garnet eyes hardening. "She's not my mother."

Surprised, Tamerin propped herself up on her elbows. "I know we haven't exactly been close for the last few decades, but...she'll always be our mother."

Jayce gave his head a shake. "Not to me. She may have given birth to me, but she stopped being my mother the day she ran out on us. You know that as well as I do."

Silence descended again, marked by Jayce's stony gaze. But Tamerin could feel what wasn't being said; her right foot was resting against her brother's shin. It was only a faint touch, but that was all that was needed for her to feel the sharp flare of anger and resentment that filled his heart.

Clearing her throat and fighting the urge to squirm, Tamerin ventured, "I really don't think she wanted to leave. I think maybe she did what she had to do to survive losing Dad. She became who she became for the sake of everyone else, but...she still loved us. She loves us the same now as she did then."

Her younger brother's deadpan expression suddenly pulled into a harsh scowl, his eyes finally shifting to glare darkly at her. "How would you know?"

Tamerin bit her lip again, knowing why he was incredulous. Their mother had avoided touching him for the last thirty years, just like she stopped touching her. If she had to guess why, Tamerin would assume that it was because her mother knew that her feelings couldn't be hidden. She'd heard that a handful of Imeerans, most of them Deichan's age and older, could mask their emotions--to an extent. It wasn't a common skill because it took a great deal of practice and concentration, and Tamerin never planned to bother trying. She wasn't the type to hide what she was feeling.

She knew her mother didn't have this skill, and so she hid the only way she could. Because letting others know how she felt would only end up making her feel more, distracting her from what she needed to do. She had probably planned to loosen up again once the war ended...only she had assumed it would end quicker. They all had. Now, after so much time, it was difficult for her to open up again, but she was clearly trying.

She tried to explain this to Jayce as she told him about the conversation she and Mom had the other day, but he just scoffed and shook his head. "I'm sure if she could go back to the way things were when you and I were young, she would," Tamerin insisted.

Jayce's eyes were dark as he looked at her hard. He shifted slightly as he spoke again, his leg moving away from her foot, but she didn't try to discreetly touch him again. The pain in his eyes told her more than enough. "You know what I remember from when I was young?" he asked.

Not sure where this was going, Tamerin quietly shook her head. "You," said her brother.

Tamerin lifted her eyebrows in surprise. "Me?"

"You were the one who comforted me after Dad died. You were the one with me for his funeral. You were the one who pushed me to keep studying when I didn't want to. It was you who helped me train before I joined the military academy. I remember you being there for every single important event in my life. And it was you who brought Dee and I together. It was always you. It was never her."

He gave his head a shake and closed his eyes, which had gone moist as he spoke. Swallowing thickly, Tamerin reached for him. She half-expected him to shy away, but his reaction when she rested her hand on his shoulder surprised her. He immediately turned and leaned against her, letting his head rest at the base of her throat as her arms went around him. Just like how she cradled him when he was ten, rocking him to sleep as he cried after seeing things no child should ever see.

He didn't cry that morning, but his emotions were raw, cutting straight into her and making her heart ache. He felt hurt, and angry, and a little betrayed. But underneath the dark emotions was a motherly kind of comfort, not unlike what she had felt from her mother the other day--only from the opposite perspective.

Part of her was surprised, but another part of her said that she should have known better. She should have realized, as much as her mother's indifference had stung her over the years, it was so much worse for Jayce. She had been an adult and could have easily survived without either parent, as much as losing them both would have hurt, but Jayce had only been a child. Just losing their father, let alone seeing it happen, was more than enough to traumatize someone his age. He had needed their mother's love and emotional support, but she wasn't there...so it was only natural that those feelings of maternal comfort and safety would shift to the one who was.

She had gotten so used to thinking of him as grown and strong--stronger than her, and in more ways than one. He was never the one who fell apart on the battlefield. He was always the one to do what needed to be done, when it needed to be done. He was the leader, the hero, the future all-star general. But for a moment he went back to being the frightened ten-year-old boy, huddled in the safety of his big sister's arms.

Only for a moment. With a sudden swell of embarrassment, Jayce pulled back and leaned against the pillow again, carelessly scrubbing the back of his hand over his eyes. "Sorry I ratted you out," he said, with a weak smile.

Tamerin smirked at his choice of words. "Watch it, that's a dirty expression on this planet. But you were right," she sighed. "I shouldn't keep secrets from him, even embarrassing ones. I just feel so silly admitting something like that to such a..."

"Badass?" Jayce supplied.

"Yeah, that'll do."

Throttle had been casual about it earlier, but she knew him. Aside from those normal fears he mentioned, he truly wasn't afraid of anything. And she was pretty sure that, of the two of them, he was the stronger one, emotionally. He wasn't the one who lost his cool, or got so invested in things that weren't any of his business he butted his head where it didn't belong. He wasn't the one who collapsed in tears when there was a job to do.

But instead of feeling embarrassed or humbled, she felt comforted. It made her feel safe knowing that he was there to help her get it back together when she fell apart.

And it was because she had found this kind of safety that she decided to make her brother stop living in denial and tell Dee how he felt. Not that she'd physically forced him...not that she'd needed to, since it hadn't taken much coaxing to get him to finally act. And Dee was just the sort of girl he needed. She was gentle as a lamb, but she had a will of iron--and a stomach to match, which was a necessity when you sewed people shut for a living. Her quiet strength and loving heart was perfect for someone like her brother...whom she was beginning to suspect had a few more issues than she had come to believe.

"I understand how you feel," she said hesitantly, "but everything is different now. She's retired, she has a new mate, and now she has a baby on the way. I think it would make her day to reconnect with you."

Jayce's expression turned stony again, and he scoffed as he abruptly got up from the bed. "If you two kissed and made up, that's fine," he muttered, "but don't expect me to. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to be getting home."

Tamerin murmured a goodbye as he breezed out of the room. She didn't think it was going to be easy for the two of them to resolve this, but...she wasn't going to push. She'd said her piece, so now the best thing would probably be to step back and let them proceed on their own. Keep her nose out of it.

After all, there was a first time for everything.

* * *

Vinnie tiptoed silently through Vector's room, carefully depositing a handful of toys into the toy chest before peering into the nearby crib. His little son was sleeping soundly, his breathing heavy and his expression peaceful. Smiling to himself, Vinnie adjusted the blanket, planted a tender kiss on his son's forehead, then crept back out of the room.

The last few days had been fairly routine, both at work and at home, which was a welcome change considering what was going on outside their borders. Vinnie never thought it would happen, but he liked having a place of comfort and stability to go to, especially when there was trouble elsewhere. It was a thought that made him chuckle as he headed barefoot down the hall to the master bedroom. "Must be getting old," he mused.

His wife was sitting on their bed in a wisp of a nightgown, and she looked up with a smirk as he came in. "You? Nah," she said casually. "A little less insane, maybe?"

Vinnie pouted and stuck out his tongue, making Charley laugh and lean back on her palms in response...an enticing sight. He decided to ignore it as he undressed to his boxers, thinking instead how quiet everyone had been at work today. Modo was depressed because Ashlin was apparently avoiding him and barely said a word, and Throttle and Tam had spent the whole day making eyes at each other before scurrying home early to continue catching up on the all time they spent apart.

With both of his bros otherwise occupied and Jayce transporting back home this morning, Vinnie was left to fill his time with his wife and son...which was fine, except that he wasn't quite sure if he trusted the signals Charley was currently sending out.

"The big guy's settled in for the night," he reported, as he went over and sat on the edge of the bed.

Charley flashed a sly, playful sort of smile as she shifted position, getting on her hands and knees and crawling closer to him. "Good," she said, sitting up again and leaning her cheek on his shoulder. "Think you're up to, uh, settling me in, too?"

"I dunno," Vinnie responded warily. "Do you _want_ me to 'settle' you?"

His Charley-girl had been acting a little funny this week. One minute she was pushing him away when he was trying to get cozy and the next minute she was pouncing on him without warning. She'd wake up sulky only to turn extra perky by lunchtime--and he wasn't about to forget her little stunt last week that he could only assume was a metaphor for what he wasn't going to get that night.

She merely let out a laugh and wrapped her arms around his neck when he mentioned this. "I'm a girl," she said simply, her head still cuddled on his shoulder. "I'm prone to mood swings."

"Yeah, well, your mood swings are leaving holes in the kitchen walls."

Charley laughed again, put her hands on his shoulders and gave a tug as she leaned back, pulling him down to the mattress with her. "Holes can be filled," she said carelessly, as she brushed her nose against his. "And speaking of which..."

There was only so much flirtatious temptation he could take. With a playful growl, Vinnie gathered her in his arms, pulling her close as he kissed her firmly--but as he started to roll over, placing her beneath him, Charley squirmed and put a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"What's the problem now?" Vinnie asked suspiciously.

His wife wiggled around for a moment, until she was lying on her side, then pushed at his shoulder until he was doing the same. "Like this," she instructed, scooting closer and slipping her arms around his neck again.

"On our sides?" Vinnie wondered dryly. "Doesn't offer a whole lot of room for movement."

Charley smiled and pecked his nose. "Exactly. I'm a little tired, and a little tender, so this way I know you'll stay gentle."

Vinnie looked at her blankly for a long moment. "Tender and tired," he repeated. "Dare I ask why you're even in the mood?"

"Because I am," she responded crisply. "You're just too irresistible."

"Well, that's true, but..."

She silenced him with a lingering kiss, one leg gliding up to drape across his hip as she scooted closer. Her soft curves pressed against him as she cupped his face in her hands and continued to kiss him, sending a pleasant warmth over his skin that blanketed him from head to toe. Before Vinnie knew it his boxers were lying discarded on the floor, and Charley's nightgown soon followed.

The bedroom door was closed, but Vinnie still made sure they stayed quiet as their bodies joined as one, keeping his mouth clamped tightly over his wife's as he pressed a hand to the small of her back. Moaning deeply, Charley undulated her torso against him, using the leg she had draped over him for leverage. Keeping his hand on her back and his tail wrapped around her waist, Vinnie moaned in time with her as he matched her movements.

It was different from the way they usually made love, but still nice--very loving and intimate. His Charley-girl clung to him tightly as her body moved with his, their mouths pressing harder together as their muffled cries escalated to an intense peak. Their grip on each other tightened almost painfully as the sensations they were creating together crested sharply, bringing them to climax together.

Quivering in his arms, Charley rubbed her flushed cheeks against his as she peppered his face and mouth with kisses, breathlessly whispering how much she loved him. Vinnie cradled her in his arms and whispered that he loved her back as he ran his fingers through her short hair. They continued to kiss and cuddle and basically gush over each other, unabashed in their affection with no one watching them, until their racing heartbeats had slowed and their breathing grew normal. Grinning slyly, Vinnie kissed his wife's forehead and said, "Ready for seconds?"

Giggling, Charley squirmed out of his arms and sat up. "I need a bathroom break. Then we'll see about seconds."

She pinched his nose, and Vinnie playfully clung to her, stealing kisses until she finally rolled free and scurried out of the room. With a rapturous sigh, Vinnie stretched out on the mattress and folded his arms beneath his head, eyes on the ceiling as he waited for his Charley-girl to return.

Only about a minute after she left, his ears picked up a set of tiny footsteps padding down the hall. He quickly sat up and tugged the blanket over his lap, just before there was a small thump outside the door; Vector giving a hop so his slight weight would trigger the door sensor. It swished open and his little son scurried into the room, a stuffed toy clutched in his hands and telltale damp streaks on his face.

Vinnie reached out wordlessly, and Vector hurried to the bedside with a sniffle, where he was drawn into the safety of his father's arms. Rocking him gently, Vinnie let his mind fill with every safe, soothing thought he could think of, then lowered his head and touched his antennas to his son's forehead. Vector continued to sniffle, but Vinnie could feel the frightened, unhappy feelings left over from his nightmare slowly fade, lulled away by his father's love.

His dark eyes were mostly dry by the time Charley came back into the room. Her expression softened when she saw the two of them, and she hastily retrieved her nightgown before crawling back into bed. Vinnie cradled his son a moment more, then gently placed him on the bed, nestling him between his parents. Charley scooted down and rested her head on the pillow, and she pulled the blanket up higher before placing a hand on her son's shoulder.

Vinnie settled down close on Vector's other side and placed his hand over Charley's. The little mouse had already forgotten about his nightmare, and he let out a sleepy yawn before closing his eyes. Vinnie kissed his cheek before resting his head on the pillow, his eyes on his son's face. You're safe, he found himself thinking. Nothing and no one is going to hurt you while I'm around.

Smiling softly, he tightened his grip on his wife's hand. "You know you two mean everything to me, don't you?" he asked quietly.

Smiling in return, Charley gave a nod. "You both mean everything to me, too. You're my whole world. My life wouldn't be complete without both of you in it."

Vinnie knew just how she felt. It had been a long struggle for all of them to reach this point, but they were together now, and he didn't think life could get any more perfect. Sure, there were problems going on out there, but there would always be problems, somewhere. That didn't change the fact that he had the best son and wife a mouse could ever want, and he wouldn't give either of them up for anything.

* * *

"This one."

"We read that one last night. How 'bout this one?"

"Nope. This one."

"But I've read that one to you a million times. How about--"

"This one!"

"You should really be more open to new experiences."

"You should stop arguing with me so much. Makes you look immature."

While this juvenile exchange went on in the back bedroom of her home, Tamerin listened with a wry smile on her face as she finished straightening up the living room and turned out the lights. Michio didn't really need to have anyone read to him at his age, but practically from the night the three of them first became a family, the rambunctious preteen had all but demanded that Throttle read him bedtime stories.

Tamerin couldn't say she blamed him. She liked listening to that melodic, husky voice of his as she drifted off to sleep too. She paused and smiled to herself again as her mate gave in, as he always did, and started reading Michio's favorite story. And after Mitch had fallen to sleep, his adopted father would lovingly tuck him in before quietly getting up and coming to tuck _her_ in.

You couldn't ask for a more perfect nighttime setting, but tonight she felt edgy for some reason. Her thoughts kept returning to the conversation with her brother this morning, and right now she suddenly found herself thinking about how miserable Modo had looked at work today. Whatever was going on between him and Ash was breaking his heart.

But much like the situation between her mother and brother, she planned to keep out of it. This was something they needed to work out on their own--particularly Ashlin, who was now faced with a very difficult decision. And that was deciding where she really belonged.

Thinking about it brought a quiet ache to her heart, and she turned toward Michio's room hesitantly, knowing that Throttle could probably feel it. Giving herself a shake, Tamerin tiptoed down the hall to the sound of her mate's low, soothing voice and peeked through the open bedroom doorway. Throttle was sitting on the bed with his back propped against the headboard, and Michio was curled up at his side, his head resting on his arm as his sleepy eyes studied the page they were reading from.

Throttle paused his narration and looked up. "Something wrong?" he asked softly.

Tamerin shook her head. "Just distracted, I guess. A lot's been happening lately."

Throttle gave her an understanding look as he set the book down for a moment. "Why don't you go take a ride?" he suggested. "That's what I do whenever I need to clear my head."

She usually took walks to clear her head, but now that she had her own bike...a quick ride around the perimeter sounded refreshing. She didn't plan to head out any farther than that, though. She'd done enough exploring beyond mouse borders for now.

"I think I will," Tamerin decided. "I shouldn't be long, but if you get tired, you don't have to wait up for me."

She stepped farther into the room and leaned down to kiss both her mate and son goodnight, then headed to the front door and slipped on her jacket and boots. It was late in the evening but the afterglow of the sun still lingered in the sky, and the air felt pleasantly warm as she stepped outside. Her bike stood next to Throttle's, sleek and midnight blue, yet ordinary and lifeless as she approached it.

She was just starting to mount the seat when she heard footsteps in the distance, and heading straight for her from the sound of them. Not in the mood for any more surprises, Tamerin frowned to herself as she listened closer. The steps were rapid, yet soft and light. Definitely female and small.

She knew those footsteps anywhere, and Tamerin quickly turned from her bike and watched as Ashlin scurried toward her in the fading light. Not that Tamerin wouldn't have still been able to see her otherwise. Being genetically engineered for survival had its uses.

"What are you doing out here at this hour?" Tamerin asked as the petite Martian drew closer.

She had only caught a glimpse or two of Ashlin over the last few days, and she found herself studying her closely, memorizing her sweet face. Ashlin eyed her in return, her expression a little nervous. "I need your help."

Tamerin felt herself frown. She suddenly had a distinct feeling what Ashlin was about to ask her, and she really didn't want to be put in this position. "Modo's worried about you," she said, deliberately stalling.

Ashlin lowered her eyes. "I know," she said softly. "I'm going to talk to him, but...there's something I have to do first."

She lifted her eyes again, her expression both earnest and determined. "I can't find him."

"He's probably waiting for you at home."

Ashlin rolled her eyes and shot her a 'don't be stupid' look. Tamerin tried to look clueless, but she felt her expression waver, until she was sagging her shoulders with a sigh. "What makes you think I know where he is?"

"You knew where I could find him the first time," Ashlin pointed out.

"The first time," Tamerin mumbled, averting her eyes. "It's not like he gave me a detailed map of where he planned to go afterward."

Ashlin let out a huff. "You've always been a lousy liar," she declared tartly. "You mean to tell me he didn't at least say where I could find him if I wanted to talk to him?"

"If he wanted you to find him, wouldn't he have told you himself?" Tamerin wondered, as she fidgeted with the zipper on her jacket with unnecessary force.

"I think he would have, if Modo hadn't been there."

"So you've spent all this time wandering the desert looking for him?" Tamerin asked dryly.

Ashlin shrugged and glanced at her feet. "Even though there are restless natives lurking out there that would have happily taken a shot at you if you happened to cross their path?" Tamerin pressed.

Ashlin lifted her head and looked at her hard, and Tamerin could have sworn there was a hint of triumph in her eyes. "So you'll tell me where he is so I won't have to look anymore, right?"

With a frustrated grunt, Tamerin rubbed her eyes for a moment as her heart sank like a stone. "I'll do better than that," she grumbled. "I'll take you there myself."

She didn't bother to mask her irritation as she let her hands drop. "I know you're both adults and it's none of my business, but I don't think it's right for you to do this without telling Modo."

"I'll tell him everything when I get back," Ashlin promised.

"You should really tell him first."

"He'd never let me go if I did."

"You're lucky _I'm_ letting you. This isn't easy for me, you know."

In fact, she was pretty sure that going through with this was going to break her heart. Because she knew what could very well happen, even if it hadn't crossed anyone else's mind yet--maybe not even Ashlin's. The young rat-cross might decide to never set foot in mouse territory again.

Her unhappiness must have shown on her face, because Ashlin suddenly frowned at her. "What is it?"

Tamerin merely shook her head and closed her eyes. She couldn't bring herself to voice that worry out loud. So instead she said, "I'm just used to thinking of myself as your only parent. I know I never adopted you on paper, but I most certainly did in my heart. I raised you and couldn't love you more if you were really my own...but you're not. You were never mine."

Smiling sadly, she opened her eyes and nodded to the chain around Ashlin's neck. "She's your mother. Not me."

Ashlin automatically pressed a hand over the pendant hidden under her shirt, but a second later she was darting forward and throwing her arms around her. The embrace wrapped Tamerin in a feeling virtually identical to what she felt from Jayce this morning. "She's my biological mother," Ashlin whispered, her voice muffled as she pressed her face against her collar. "But you'll always be my _real_ mother."

Swallowing thickly, Tamerin blinked rapidly as she held the slender Martian and pulled her close. For a brief moment she let herself forget everything going on in the present as she stroked Ashlin's hair, while her mind looked back over Ashlin's life without her permission. Part of her had never wanted her baby days to end, yet at the same time she had loved watching her little girl grow up. She'd grown up strong and beautiful...but the point now was that she was grown.

Swallowing again, Tamerin gently nudged her back until she could see her face. "It's your choice," she said quietly.

Ashlin smiled faintly. "I want to see him again."

Tamerin nodded wordlessly and turned to mount her bike. Ashlin climbed on behind her and held on tightly, and in a few short minutes they were beyond mouse borders and heading deeper into the desert.

Not that Nitro had told her where whatever colony he was part of lived. Before he disappeared into the darkness the other night, he simply instructed her where he and a handful of others would be staying for the time being, if Ashlin needed to find him later. The area he described was miles from familiar territory, but Tamerin tracked the landmarks he described to the bottom of a rock and debris-filled canyon.

It was an isolated, lifeless sort of place, one that put any sane being on guard, their ears wide open and their eyes keeping a sharp watch. The air around them felt unnaturally quiet as Tamerin rode slowly through a narrow path, like they were weaving their way through a crack that cut deep into Mars. She eventually pulled up alongside what looked like a crumbling mound of stone and killed the engine. The light in the sky had faded, and the gentle, yellowish glow of one of Mars' pebbly moons as it crept overhead was no where near as bright as the luminosity of Earth's moon.

Not that it mattered. They were in the heart of the canyon, and even in the middle of the day the shape of the surrounding rock formations would leave the place they stood in shadow. Ashlin followed close at her heels as Tamerin's pupils worked overtime. The original Imeerans had stopped short of giving them a reflective layer inside their eyes, like a cat's, but their pupils expanded in darkness far wider than most species could, until the surrounding iris was paper-thin. They weren't quite able to see in complete and total darkness...but it was close enough.

Tamerin stepped easily over the uneven ground, moving closer to the seemingly innocuous mound of stone and pebbles as charred hunks of metal crunched beneath her feet. Ashlin stumbled along behind her at a slower pace, which suited her just fine. Tamerin wanted to be in front when they found the entrance to wherever her father was hiding.

Nitro had described it as being just behind a large, flat boulder with a curve to it, like someone had shaped it out of sculpting clay so it mirrored the shape of the canyon wall behind it. She located the boulder without much trouble, noting the fathomless shadow that lay in the space beyond it. You couldn't tell how shallow or deep it was from either a distance or up close, like it could go for a couple of feet or for miles.

Tamerin was willingly to bet which. She was also willing to bet that their arrival wasn't going to go unnoticed. She could tell by the nervous quiver in Ashlin's breathing that she was expecting something to pop out of that shadow--only when something did, just as Tamerin was resting a hand on the boulder and peering closer, it didn't pop so much as it exploded.

Tamerin hopped back and bumped into Ashlin, who let out a startled yelp, lost her balance and fell backwards. Tamerin found herself staring dumbly at the figure looming before them, after having burst out of hiding with all the subtlety of a semi crashing through a brick wall.

The former general had seen a handful of rats since moving to Mars, and most have them had looked a lot like the pair she saw firing at the equally insalubrious sand raider the other day. This rat was like Nitro; strong, healthy, and fit. Not to mention huge. He was at least as tall as Modo, and there was a natural thickness to his already impressive frame that made his muscles even meatier.

Teeth bared, he leveled a laser rifle at them. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded sharply.

Tamerin placidly lifted her hands, displaying her empty palms. "We're here to see Nitro," she explained.

Cobalt eyes narrowed at her suspiciously. "Nitro told you how to find this place?"

"I don't think we could have found it otherwise."

She lowered her hands again, while Ashlin scrambled to her feet. For a moment it looked like she wanted to stay hunkered behind her, but then she gave herself a shake and pulled herself straight. The bulky guard jerked his gaze to her for a moment, then lowered his rifle a little as he suddenly fished a hand in his pocket. He pulled out a slender object--and the next second there was a light shining on their faces. Tamerin's eyes, adapted to heavy darkness, complained soundly.

She tried not to wince too obviously as she was studied from head to toe, before the blinding beam focused solely on Ashlin. Her eyes quickly adjusted again and Tamerin watched as something flickered across the rat's face. A touch of surprise--and she was pretty sure recognition.

The light switched off again. "Okay," the guard said gruffly, "you can go in."

Ashlin breathed a quiet sigh of relief and took a step toward the entrance. Tamerin did the same--only to have the barrel of the guard's rifle poke into her shoulder. "Is there a problem?" she asked dryly.

The grin the guard flashed her was a little too smugly amused for her taste. He gave a nod to the holster strapped to her thigh. "Your weapons," he instructed. "They stay here with me."

Ashlin handed over her laser pistol wordlessly. With a grumbling sigh, Tamerin did the same. Unfortunately, the guard wasn't that gullible; he gave her another hard jab when she tried to take another step. "Right, like I'm going to believe you're the type to pack lightly."

With another sigh, Tamerin reached down to retrieve the knife hidden in her boot, then handed over the mini laser she kept in her jacket, before she reached back and unclipped the multipurpose tool that she always attached to the back hem of her pants. It was mostly for picking locks, but it included a small, saw-like blade. The guard cocked an eyebrow. "That it?"

Rolling her eyes, Tamerin displayed her hands and waggled her fingers. "Would you like to confiscate these, too?"

This earned her a deeply amused chuckle. "Nah. I'd love to see you try to scratch someone's eyes out with those pitiful things you call nails."

"Well, let's hope I won't have to."

The guard chuckled again. "Yeah. Let's."


	17. Chapter 17

Beyond the guarded entrance was a series of well-lit tunnels and connecting caverns. Tamerin didn't know what they were doing down here, but they had a pretty sophisticated setup. Slender metal rods were thrust into the gray-brown walls, their tips glowing with a white light that reflected off some kind of glittering mineral in the soil. There were shelves and containers, weapon racks, places to eat and sleep. What told her that she was dealing with a group who knew exactly what they were doing and how to do it fast was the fact that everything was designed so it could be removed quickly. As deeply rooted as their presence looked right now, she imagined that they could pull everything out and be gone in a matter of minutes.

Once the two of them were unarmed the guard apparently lost interest, allowing them to proceed on their own while he stayed at his post. Tamerin was just glad he hadn't gone so far as to search her. Otherwise he probably would have found the laser knife she kept tucked in the lining of her jacket. Sure, she had been relaxing at home before she left, but there was growing unrest outside their borders. One could never be too careful.

The outer tunnels were empty except for all the equipment, but as she and Ashlin headed deeper, Tamerin's ears picked up the sound of voices. There weren't that many of them, judging from the movement she detected farther inside. Counting the guard, maybe a little over a dozen or so.

It looked and sounded like the bulk of them were in the large, chamber-like cavern she and Ashlin eventually entered. Some were sitting on crates, others were leaning against the walls. Most were working on weapons--taking them apart, cleaning them, putting them back together again--while others were packing away supplies. They all looked relaxed and were casually joking around--until the two of them walked into the room, that is.

Conversation came to a halt and every surprised head turned their way. Tamerin did a quick assessment and noted that each of them was fit and in perfect health. She also noted that all of them were male. And suddenly Nitro's words from the other night came back to her: not every rat sided with the Plutarkians.

If that was true, then she had to wonder if this group of rats had suffered the same kind of attacks that had once been focused on the mice. She had heard the stories, and the Plutarkians' battle tactic had been the same as the shape-shifters that once plagued her own people: take out the women and children first. Eliminating children meant they wouldn't grow up to join the others on the battlefield, and getting rid of would-be mothers stunted population growth. Plus once their families were gone, many males lost the will to fight. A brutal but undeniably effective tactic.

Because of it, there were a good deal more male mice than female right now. And Tamerin had to wonder, looking at them now, if these rats had faced the same cruel tactic...or if their females were hidden away somewhere, safe and sound.

Questions continued to flit through her mind as she scanned the room with her eyes, searching for Nitro, but she didn't see any sign of a golden-furred rat. No one got up or said anything, but as she and Ashlin moved farther into the room, someone let out a long, shrill whistle. That extremely obnoxious whistle males liked to make when they spotted a female who turned them on. Tamerin withheld the urge to roll her eyes and tried to ignore the sudden attention...but she couldn't help but be acutely aware of how intently they were being studied. A little _too_ intently.

Across the room, a slim but toned rat with shale gray fur was seated on a long wooden crate and cleaning the blaster in his hands. He looked younger than the others, and as he looked her over he had a crooked grin on his face that reminded her of Vinnie. Snickering quietly, he leaned over and nudged the pale-furred rat sitting next to him with his elbow. Not that he needed to get his attention; that rat had been staring at her since the moment she first walked in.

She glared back at him sullenly, but this merely brought an amused smile to his face. With deliberate slowness, he narrowed his eyes slightly and snaked his tongue past his lips, dragging the tip across the front of his teeth.

Barely holding back a grimace, Tamerin hastily looked away and edged closer to Ashlin, but she couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes on her. His weren't the only ones. She could feel the weight of multiple stares, feel how those gazes roamed all over her body. She was pretty sure she visibly shuddered as she reached out to grip Ashlin's arm. "I think--"

To her astonishment, Ashlin pulled away like she didn't hear and scampered to the other side of the chamber. A familiar figure was emerging from another tunnel, and he set down the metal box he was carrying with a look of surprise. "Ashlin? What are you doing here?"

Ashlin looked shy as she faced her father, yet the smile she flashed was hopeful. "I just wanted to see you. It's okay if I'm here, isn't it?"

"Of course," Nitro said quickly. "You can come see me whenever you want."

His dark eyes full of obvious affection, he slid an arm around his daughter's shoulders and guided her to the tunnel he had just come from. "Come on, let's go someplace quiet where we can talk."

As they headed into the mouth of the tunnel, Nitro looked back over his shoulder. His eyes lingered on Tamerin for a moment before shifting to a rat sitting off by himself. "Poison, keep things under control while I'm gone, okay?"

'Poison?' Tamerin echoed dryly to herself. Now there was a name that inspired confidence.

Father and daughter disappeared into the tunnel, and Tamerin looked across the room at the rat in question. He was tall, which was evident from his long limbs even though he was sitting hunched over. His hands were large and strong, his fingers skilled and capable as he worked a sharpening stone over the blade of the large knife he was holding. His fur was sable-colored, a glossy kind of black that made it gleam in the light each time he moved, like every hair had been carefully dipped in melted silver. There was an over-sized eye-patch stretched over one eye, but even then it didn't quite hide the thin, jagged scar that slanted along his cheek.

He didn't look up or acknowledge that Nitro had spoken to him, and Tamerin got the distinct feeling that he was the sort who liked to pretend he was the only one present in a crowded room.

And speaking of crowded rooms...as she folded her arms and waited for Ashlin to come back, Tamerin suddenly felt the weirdest sensation trickle up her spine. Like she was being touched, even though no one had laid a hand on her. But all of a sudden she realized that someone was close enough to, if they wanted.

As she spun around, she saw with a sinking feeling that they were _all_ close enough. Damn these rats and their super stealth; she didn't hear a single one of them get up and move closer, and yet here they were. Casually surrounding her. Something unpleasant was buzzing through the air, something...

Predatory. She was surrounded by predators.

Well, they'd find out the hard way that she was nobody's prey. When the pale-furred rat she had seen earlier took a step closer, that same narrow-eyed smile on his face, she scowled hard and took a step back--only to bump into someone standing behind her. She quickly jerked to the side, but she didn't move as far away as she wanted to as she felt a sudden tug at her scalp that nearly made her stumble back again.

She'd bumped into the shale gray rat, and he had a clump of her hair in his hand. As she twisted her neck to see over her shoulder he lifted the strands up to his nose, inhaling deep like they were a bouquet of flowers. Releasing a low murmur of approval, he shifted the clump to his cheek and rubbed his face against it. "She sure smells good," he noted in a purring voice.

Grimacing, Tamerin latched onto her own hair and gave a sharp tug. There was definitely a pair of scissors in her near future.

"I think she stinks," someone else commented, as Tamerin edged away from the hair-fondler. "Like a mouse, that is."

Someone chuckled--so close she felt warm breath on her ear. "I bet that smell would go away, if we rub her skin long enough."

Clawed fingers teased down her arm. "What do you say? Want to find out what it's like to be with a _real_ rodent?"

Gritting her teeth, Tamerin darted her hand out and seized the wrist of the one groping her arm. She had every intention of answering his question--with a bone-crunching twist--but at that moment someone let out a low growl. Every head--including hers--turned to the back of the room, all eyes focusing on the lone rat who hadn't joined the group encircling her.

Poison didn't bother getting to his feet. All he did was lift his head, his single eye cutting a knife-like gaze across the room, but Tamerin suddenly recalled a nature video she had watched on Earth once, about a powerful and majestic hunter known as a gray wolf. She wasn't sure exactly why she made that connection--the unusual yellowish color of his eye, maybe?--but his presence had enraptured the entire room.

"You losers cut that shit out," he ordered.

That was all he said before returning his attention to his knife sharpening. He didn't even really raise his voice, but the mood in the chamber changed completely. The almost electric crackle of danger evaporated, and the rats standing around her didn't seem predatory anymore. They looked like a group of kids who just had their wrists slapped after being caught with their hands in the cookie jar, and with hanging heads and shuffling feet they dispersed throughout the cavern again, mumbling under their breaths.

Tamerin soon found herself standing alone. Even the rat she had latched onto had wandered away to some corner, though she didn't remember letting him go. Feeling ruffled and unhappy, she let her irritation show as she straightened her jacket and moved over to a support pillar near the middle of the room, resting her back against it. Arms folded, she tapped her foot loudly as she waited for Ashlin to return, and the moment she appeared, Tamerin hurried over and put a protective hand on her back.

"Come on," she said, nudging her toward the exit. "We're getting out of here."

But Ashlin surprised her again by edging away with a look of pleading. "I want to stay," she said softly.

"With them?" Tamerin asked dryly, glancing around the room.

But no one looked Ashlin's way, though the young rat glanced at Tamerin with what looked like an apologetic grin. And it suddenly hit her that Ashlin had never been very interesting to them. Either because she was part mouse, Nitro's daughter or both, she was off limits...though it would seem Tamerin was fair game. Assuming their behavior earlier had even been serious. Looking at all the sheepish grins they kept flashing, she was starting to wonder.

"I'll be fine," Ashlin said firmly. "I want to stay and talk to my father a little longer. He'll take me home later."

As she spoke, Nitro came to her side and put his arm around her again. "Nothing's going to happen to her while I'm around," he said, as he met Tamerin's unhappy gaze. "And from what I've gathered, she's safer here than where she's been staying lately."

She couldn't argue with him there. And for the second time tonight she felt her heart sink, leaving her with a sense of emptiness that chilled her a little. For a moment the cavern and everyone in it faded away as she looked back over the last few months, recalling all the hateful looks, the angry whispers, the general air of contempt. Then she took another look around her, noting the obvious indifference from the rats in the room, before focusing on Ashlin and Nitro again. Though they had only just met, the love the father felt for his daughter was clear and plain.

Tamerin's eyes grew moist, and she quickly blinked them away as she reached out and pulled the petite Martian into her arms, holding her close and tight. Swallowing thickly, Ashlin held her back just as tightly and whispered, "I'll be okay."

With an absent nod, Tamerin ran her hand over her soft hair. "I know," she murmured. "I know you will be. But I want you to promise me something now."

Pulling her even closer, Tamerin pressed her mouth near her ear and said softly, "Whatever it is you decide to do, make sure you do it for you, and _only_ for you. Understand?"

Ashlin nodded quickly, sniffling. Not caring if anyone was watching them, Tamerin continued to stroke her hair and repeatedly kissed her furry cheeks, while her thoughts drifted back over days gone by. She saw a younger version of herself rocking the sleeping baby cradled close in her arms, her plump little body covered with the downiest of fur that had only just started to grow. Her mind continued to flash through all those special moments; Ashlin's first steps, her first words, the first time she dressed herself, her first day of school.

For a moment Tamerin's eyes grew so cloudy the world around her blurred together into a murky pool. It was by feel that she cupped Ashlin's face in her hands, pushed her hair back and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "I will love you _forever_ ," she vowed, her voice thick with unshed tears.

Through the cloudiness she saw Ashlin nod, a tremble running through her small frame as Tamerin clung to her for just a little longer before she finally tore her arms away. Ignoring the rats she felt watching her, Tamerin wiped her eyes with the heels of her palms as she left the cavern, moving down the connecting tunnels until she was outside again. She ignored the guard too, grabbing her weapons wordlessly before mounting her bike and riding away.

She rode straight for home...though she had to stop once, about a mile away from the outskirts of mouse territory. Her eyes kept blurring to the point where she couldn't see to steer, plus she wasn't ready to explain to Throttle why she was so upset and wanted to get her emotions back under control before she came in range of their bond. She'd tell him everything eventually, but...not tonight. Not until after she was sure exactly what was going to come of this.

She dismounted her bike and sank on a nearby boulder, where she sat with her arms wrapped around herself and her eyes gazing unseeing at the darkened horizon. She fought against it for a while, but that image of herself cradling her baby girl worked its way back into her mind. She eventually gave up fighting it, along with the threatening tears that spilled free as she squeezed her eyes shut and drew her knees to her chest.

It was extremely late by the time she finally pulled herself back together, and she tucked her tears and breaking heart away somewhere she hoped her mate wouldn't find them before hopping back on her bike and hurrying home.

But in the end she didn't need to worry. When she crept back to Michio's room, Throttle was sitting slumped against the headboard, his head drooping to the side so far it was resting on his own shoulder in a way that was probably going to give him a neck cramp. His mouth hung open slightly as he snored. Michio was sitting awake beside him, head bent over the book in his lap. He looked up as Tamerin came to stand in the doorway; a frown creased his face. "What's the matter?"

Tamerin managed a weak smile as she took a moment to study him; his dark eyes gazed back at her with worry. "Just thinking how glad I am that you're mine. I'm so glad I get to call you my son."

Ears twitching, Michio glanced away with a look of embarrassment. "Me too," he mumbled shyly. His gaze fell on Throttle, who continued to snore quietly. "He passed out before we got to the end and I didn't want to wake him up," Michio explained.

Chuckling, Tamerin looked lovingly down at her sleeping mate. "I don't have the heart to, either."

"You gonna carry him to bed?"

"I won't tell him if you won't."

* * *

Modo wasn't sure how long he lay awake, but he just couldn't go to sleep. It was too quiet around here, and he missed Ashlin so much his heart hurt--plus wherever she decided to go today, she still hadn't come back yet. So he continued to lay staring up at the ceiling, the light on his dresser softly burning and the radio beside it playing quietly so the sound didn't wake Ako.

In his hand he was holding the shell Ashlin had given him, months ago. He absently drew his thumb over its pale surface, following its coiled shape, as he thought back to that day and the events leading up to that moment, and all of the moments that had followed. It had been unexpected, the way Ashlin became part of his life, but he was so used to loving her now he couldn't picture his life without her. Barely seeing each other and never speaking felt strange to the point of unnatural to him, and he didn't know how much longer he could stand it. He wanted things to go back to the way the were supposed to be between them. And he wanted things to stay that way for the rest of their lives.

He was still mulling over it miserably when he heard soft footsteps outside his room. For a second he thought it was Ako, but when he sat up and looked over at the open doorway, it was a familiar Martian figure that came to stand on the threshold instead. Surprised, he fumbled with the shell as he hastily set it down, his heart lifting with hope. He had been longing for this moment for days...yet now that it was here he couldn't think of a thing to say.

So he skipped the awkward hello and wordlessly held out his arms instead. Ashlin's expression had been nervous as she looked at him from across the room; now her eyes filled with relief, and she all but ran to be enveloped in his embrace. "I was worried about you, darlin'," he murmured as she tightened her arms around his neck.

"I know," she said softly, her voice full of apology. "I would have talked to you sooner, but I wanted to see him again first. Only I had a little trouble finding him."

She settled against his chest and perched on his knee as she lifted her face, her gaze meeting his. Modo gently rested his hand on her cheek, caressing her nose and mouth with his thumb as he drunk in the sight of her face. "So, you talked to him again?" he asked hesitantly.

She nodded. "Tonight. He just dropped me off."

Modo moved his hand from her face and rested it on her shoulder as he thought this over for a moment. She'd gone to see her father and he had brought her home again, safe and without so much as a hair out of place. "What did you talk about?"

"My mother, mostly."

Her dark eyes grew earnest. "You're wrong about him," she said gently, though her tone was firm. "He loved her so much. When he mentioned how much I remind him of her I thought he was going to cry."

Modo searched her face. As always, what was in her heart was visible and plain; she was worried, yet hopeful, and stubbornly determined. And most of all he saw her love for him shining in her eyes. "And he didn't ask you for anything?"

She shook her head. "No. He's not trying to use me for anything. He just wants to be my parent. And I want to be able to see him whenever I want."

Her tone had taken on a warning note, the hint of stubbornness in her expression deepening. With a sigh, Modo pulled her close again and held her tightly. He still felt uneasy about this, but...he was starting to think that he might have been wrong after all. If there was anything more going on here, it probably would have been revealed by now. But he intended to go with her when she ventured outside their borders from now on, just to be safe.

"If that's what you want," he whispered, stroking her hair. "Whatever makes you happy, darlin'. And I'm sorry for what I said."

Ashlin quickly shook her head and hugged him harder. "No--I'm the one who's sorry. I don't blame you for being suspicious, and I know you were only trying to protect me. I'm so sorry about how I've been acting."

Modo felt himself smile, and he brushed her hair back from her face. "It's okay, darlin'," he told her, kissing her cheek. "All is forgiven."

Relief filled her eyes again, and her smile was dazzling as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pecked his lips. Her expression softened, and she closed her eyes as she pulled closer to him and kissed him again. Their mouths lingered together for a long moment, soft and sweet, and when Ashlin pulled away again her eyes were bright.

Modo watched as she crossed the room and closed the bedroom door, making it lock with a quiet click. She then turned and headed over to his dresser, where she increased the volume of the radio a notch or two. When she faced him again, there was an unmistakable longing in her soft expression.

Modo's heart gave a little thump. "We don't have to do anythin' more tonight," he faltered. Not to say he didn't want to. "I'm happy just havin' you back."

Ashlin's smile was both shy and playful as she drew closer to him again, resting her hands on his shoulders. "We've stayed far enough apart for the last few days," she noted as she gently nudged him back. "I think it's high time we removed all the distance between us. And I do mean _all_."

Modo flushed slightly, but he obediently lay back on the bed and scooted up so his head rested on the pillow. "Only if you're sure," he said firmly.

With a casual air belied by the pink flush visible in her cheeks, Ashlin climbed onto the bed beside him and swung one leg over him like she was mounting a bike, straddling his middle. "I told you before," she said softly, as she settled comfortably on his stomach, "I've been sure for a while. I love you more than anything."

Heart warming, Modo reached up to cup her face in his hands. "I love you too, darlin'. I want you to be part of my life forever."

Ashlin's smile was loving, even as her eyes moistened slightly. "I will be. No matter what anyone else says or does, I am never going to leave you."

She reached up and took his hands, kissed them both in turn, then flashed him a playful smile as she shifted a little lower. "Now, let's get these pants off, shall we?"

Modo couldn't help chuckling, though his heart sped a little in anticipation as she tugged the zipper of his jeans down. "You've been gettin' a little bold lately, haven't you," he noted wryly.

"Do you mind?" Ashlin wondered, eyes dancing.

Modo rested his hands on her thighs and shook his head. "Actually, I'd say it's about time."


	18. Chapter 18

_I hear them getting closer_  
_Their howls are sending chills down my spine_  
_And time is running out now,_  
_They're coming down the hills from behind_  
~The Howling;  Within Temptation

Modo couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so alive, and he didn't believe he had ever felt happier. Nothing compared to the feeling of joining body and soul with the one you loved. It was a moment he never wanted to end, but come to an end it did, and afterward he clung to Ashlin's quivering form as he stubbornly fought off sleep for as long as he could. And when sleep finally claimed him, his dreams were full of visions of the future--a future loaded with joy.

When he opened his eye the next morning he felt pleasantly warm and lazy, and he released a low murmur of contentment as he shifted beneath the blanket, rolling over to gaze at the one lying beside him. Instead, all he saw was an empty space on the mattress, and a subtle dent in the pillow where the head that lay next to his should have been.

For a second he felt surprised--and disappointed--but the feeling went away quicker than it had come. Knowing Ashlin, she had probably slipped out to the kitchen to make him breakfast, and he settled down to wait with a smile on his face, picturing her walking in with a tray full of food any moment.

But the minutes ticked by, and there wasn't a hint of movement anywhere outside his room. Not until he heard a soft thump across the hallway that signaled Ako hopping out of his basket, followed by his tiny paws scampering up to Modo's closed bedroom door. "You awake, Daddy?"

Modo got up and pulled on a pair of jeans before heading out into the hall and scooping his fluffy son up. He carried him to the kitchen and absently put together his breakfast for him while discreetly checking for any sign of Ashlin having been in here recently, or any indication that she would be back soon.

When he found nothing, he went outside and stood in front of his home, his lone eye scanning the area slowly. The sun was still climbing above the horizon and there was a slight chill in the air, and in the distance he heard the chatter of voices, the laughter of children playing. A group of male mice headed off to work together, an elderly couple tended to their garden, an expectant mother stood next to a bed of flowers and rubbed the small of her back, smiling as she watched her other little ones play.

There was no trace of the beautiful rat-cross he couldn't live without, and as Modo turned to go back inside he told himself that wherever she had gone, she would be back before lunch...even as an ache of doubt crept into his heart.

* * *

"C'mon, Tam, what's wrong?"

From the second he woke up, Throttle knew that his mate was unhappy about something. If the way she had her face pressed to her pillow, knuckles jabbed childishly against her mouth as her eyes gazed sightlessly into the distance didn't make it obvious enough, there was a gloom hovering in their bond, as substantial and heavy as a storm cloud.

He'd been trying for the last few minutes to coax her to tell him what was bothering her, but all she would do was shrug and shake her head. Sighing, Throttle smoothed his hand over her bare back. "At least tell me why you up and cut most of your hair off."

Much like he loved the feel of her bare skin when he held her, he loved the feel of her silky locks brushing against him. She'd kept her hair at waist-length ever since he'd known her, and sometimes when they were really rolling around in bed together he would end up tangled in it. Which was all part of the fun.

It was a little disappointing to wake up and find that sometime during the night she had cut it so the ends just touched her shoulders. But as he ran his fingers down her back again, he decided to look on the bright side. "Not that I'm complaining," he said, after waiting in vain for her to respond. "It gives me a better view of the good parts."

As he spoke, he traced his fingertips over the tattoo on her upper back--which he had firmly talked her out of removing when she mentioned growing bored with it a while back. And of course the good parts in the front were a nice view too, he thought with a grin.

When Tamerin continued to stay silent, acting like she was barely aware he was even in the room, he gripped her shoulder and gently rolled her over. Leaning closer, he brushed her shortened hair away from her face, then rested his hand on her cheek. "Hey," he told her softly, "no keeping secrets, remember?"

Her blue eyes blinked once before finally focusing on him, though only for a moment. With another shake of her head, Tamerin closed her eyes and released a quiet breath. "Something doesn't feel right," she murmured.

Frowning, Throttle cupped her face in both hands and coaxed her to look at him again. "What do you mean?"

Worry was coming through their bond now, overtaking the gloominess. Tamerin's eyes grew distant again, like she was seeing right through him as she knitted her eyebrows together. "It feels like something bad is about to happen," she said.

Throttle lifted his own eyebrows in surprise. "Are you clairvoyant, too?"

She didn't smile. "No. Just empathic. And I think..."

With a sudden frown, she sat up and rubbed her arm. "I'm only guessing, but I think that some of us can sense negative intentions, if they're strong enough. For example," she went on, her eyes sober as they met his, "a large group of beings deciding at the same time that they're going to commit mass genocide."

Throttle frowned hard. "Have you felt something like this before?" he asked, though he was pretty sure that she had, and pretty sure he knew when and why.

Tamerin nodded slightly. "That day the shape-shifters attacked for the first time. That whole morning, I just felt...strange."

"And you feel that way now?" her mate prodded. A deep sense of unease had settled into their bond now, and most of it was his own.

Forehead lining in concentration, Tamerin lowered her eyes and was quiet for a long moment. "It's not the same, exactly," she said uncertainly. "But..."

"Close enough?" Throttle guessed.

She nodded again, her hand gliding up her arm to clutch her own shoulder. "It scares me," she murmured.

It was Throttle's turn to stare off into the distance as he sat back for a moment, stretching his senses out to his surroundings. He didn't hear anything, or feel anything out of the ordinary on his own...but if she sensed something odd enough to make her feel afraid, then he wasn't going to take any chances.

Lifting her chin, he kissed her forehead tenderly before getting up. "Get dressed," he told her. "We'll grab Modo and Vinnie and go scope things out."

He turned and headed out of the bedroom, planning to tell Michio that they were leaving--and that was when he heard someone shouting, far off in the distance somewhere. Pausing and straining to listen, he heard the rumble of a large engine, far away and faint, followed by a muffled booming sound that he would swear he felt hum through the ground beneath his feet.

Those sounds could have been caused by just about anything--plumbing and electrical maintenance going haywire, a group of young bikers taking off for an explosive joyride--but the knot in his stomach and the tension suddenly pumping through his veins told him that it was nothing so simple, so harmless.

Jaw set grimly, he hurried down the hall to Michio's room. His goat-like son was sitting up in bed, enjoying his favorite pastime. He looked up from the book resting open in his lap when Throttle came in--and wrinkled his black nose at him. "What's with the face?" he wanted to know. "I'm being good. There's no school today."

"I know."

Throttle didn't want to scare him, but he also wanted to make darn sure that the mischievous youngster understood he was completely serious. After hesitating for a moment, he stepped closer and rested a hand on his small shoulder. "Tam and I need to go out for a little while," he explained slowly, calmly. "I want you to stay in here until we get back. And I mean _stay in here_ \--lock the door, and no matter what you hear, don't open it. And don't come out until one of us says it's okay. Understand?"

Michio's dark eyes slowly grew round as he listened, and he mutely nodded his head when he finished. Throttle was relieved--and a little surprised. He expected him to ask if he was joking or not, or at least ask what was going on. But Michio stayed silent, his expression and posture suggesting that he was completely compliant with what Throttle had just said--and with anything he might decide to add.

Smiling faintly, Throttle gave his shoulder a squeeze before turning for the door. He was just putting a foot out in the hall when he heard Michio scramble from the bed, his book falling to the floor with a thump. A second later he was throwing his small arms around his adopted father's waist and squeezing him tight. "Be careful, Dad," he whispered.

Heart softening, Throttle bent down and put his arms around him. "I will," he promised.

He hugged his son tightly for a second more, then let go and stepped back out into the hall. The door slid shut behind him, letting out a satisfying click as Michio locked it. When he returned to his own bedroom, Tamerin was zipping up her jacket, the finishing touch to an outfit that clearly said she meant business. She had on combat boots, old jeans, and about every weapon she owned. As Throttle grabbed his own arsenal, she pulled her shortened hair back and snugged it into a bun.

After he finished gearing up and the two of them hurried to the front door, Throttle heard that distant booming sound again, and this time he was sure he felt a tremor beneath his feet. Blaster drawn and teeth set, he punched the button to open the door and stepped outside. What greeted his eyes was so fantastic, so nightmarish, for a moment all he could do was stand and stare.

It was the kind of scene he had hoped to never witness again as long as he lived. Terrified, innocent mice were running for cover; the air was filled with dust and smoke and tinged with red; the sound of frightened cries, the crackle of flame, the shriek of blaster fire and the harsh booming of explosions echoed all around him.

At first he didn't see the source, but then he spotted them. Not to mention heard them. With gleeful whoops and cruel cackles, they tore through front yards and blazed through meticulously cared for gardens and every other place they had absolutely no damn business being, their clunky vehicles chugging loudly as they kicked up sand and belched out black exhaust.

As he continued to stare, body stiff and numb with shock, Throttle couldn't tell exactly how many of them there were. It didn't seem like it could possibly be real, waking up after over two years worth of peaceful mornings to find a barrage of sand raiders invading their territory without warning or provocation, firing lasers and tossing explosives at anything and everyone.

There was something that made it even more surreal than it already was--something that nagged at the back of his mind that this shouldn't be possible--but he didn't have time to think of exactly what. A smaller vehicle suddenly rolled by at top speed in front of them, carrying a trio of emaciated raiders that were clearly having a blast with their own disgusting behavior. With a wild laugh one of them pitched a lit explosive in their direction as the wobbly vehicle streaked by.

Instinct kicked in and Throttle tensed to dive out of the way--but Tamerin was one step ahead of him and already shoving him to safety. He hit the ground and rolled several feet before rising into a crouch, while the dirt underneath him shook as the charge hit, the sound splitting through the air.

Through the faint tint of his specs, Throttle gritted his teeth as he squinted past the resulting smoke and dust. The charge had hit a spot near the front door, and though it had only been a small one, it still took a good chunk out of the rock wall and left a large smoking scorch mark behind.

His own home? Oh _hell_ no.

With an angry grunt, he darted forward and hit the keys to lock the door--a lot of good it would do if someone really wanted to blast their way in, but he couldn't help it--before turning around, blaster poised and ready. But the group bombarding the immediate area had already moved on, and so had Tamerin. He didn't see her, but he could sense her adrenaline rushing, though he couldn't quite tell which direction she had gone.

From somewhere to his right Throttle heard an engine backfiring, so he jumped on his bike and took off, following the sound. It was one of those weird moments in life where it felt like time didn't exist anymore. Any one moment could feel like days or less than a second. Throttle wasn't sure how long he spent that morning weaving around homes and businesses and firing at anything that wasn't riding a bike. As far as he could tell, none of the raiders were hopping out and running around on foot, instead firing randomly from the safety of their vehicles between chucking small explosive charges. Civilians who weren't armed and ready to leap into combat had already locked themselves indoors, and in the distance Throttle heard the unmistakable sound of Carbine's voice shouting orders, signaling that the military had already gotten involved. He could only hope that all this was brought to an end before any real damage, or whatever they had come here to do, was done.

He continued to tail the crazed intruders, and he noticed that whenever one of his shots hit home, the damaged vehicle would veer off and retreat. And as more and more armed bikers joined the fight, the more the raiders scattered, seemingly content with fleeing empty-handed.

When Throttle blasted at the tires of one of the last remaining stragglers, he found two familiar bikes pulling up along either side of him. "Just like ol' times," Modo noted, as he casually shot a rifle out of hands of the sand raider riding in the back of the vehicle in front of them.

Cursing loudly, the driver sped up and swerved crazily around a mound of smoking debris. Yeah, Throttle thought darkly, as he took a glance at his surroundings. Homes were on fire and shot full of holes, the ground was blackened and burnt, and once lush gardens were now smoldering piles of ash. Just like old times.

Vinnie said it first. "It's not fun anymore."

Modo grunted in agreement. There was nothing fun about driving this unexpected threat out of their territory, which Throttle sullenly realized they had been unprepared for. They had grown too relaxed, too comfortable. Too self-assured that this sort of thing was in the past, and there was little satisfaction to be had when the final group of vehicles sped away, with more whooping laughter and a few more explosives tossed back for good measure.

When the sound of the last engine faded and was gone, the three of them pulled to a stop. A strange kind of silence fell, marked only by the crackle of fire and the occasional sob of a child. As the dust slowly began to settle, other mice got off their bikes and crept out of their homes, faces angry and tearful as they inspected the damage. Tamerin pulled up on her blue bike and joined the three of them, looking dusty but unharmed.

She looked Throttle over briefly before shifting her gaze to Vinnie. "Where's Charley?" she asked quietly.

"At the garage, I think," Vinnie responded tiredly.

Grim-faced, Modo said nothing, but Throttle was pretty sure they all came to the same decision at the same time, and they each turned and started riding in the direction of the garage-- _their_ garage. As they rode by, citizens and military personnel were already starting on the cleanup. As he looked at all the pointless destruction, all Throttle could do was shake his head. "They didn't even take anything," he said.

"Sure doesn't look like it," Tamerin agreed, her tone somber.

"Doesn't make any sense to me," Vinnie muttered. "If they were going to go through all this trouble, you'd think they'd want food, or weapons, or something."

Throttle felt himself sit up straighter. _That_ was the thing that had felt so strange to him during all this. He had heard the reports plus confirmed it with his own eyes; all the weapons owned by the sand raiders--as well as the rats--were literally falling apart in their hands. Mounting an attack like this was impossible in their current state, unless they suddenly came across a supply of blasters and laser rifles that were in perfect working order. And judging from what he had seen this morning, that was exactly what had happened.

Which made what went on here make even less sense, and he mentioned this after quickly explaining about the weapons. "It doesn't make any sense to me either," Tamerin said after he'd finished. "I'm used to dealing with both direct and sneak attacks, and I can definitely tell you that this was neither. They didn't seem to have any goal whatsoever other than to make a lot of noise, do a little damage and scare everyone. Those weren't even the kind of explosives they normally use."

They sure weren't, and Throttle was glad for it. Otherwise, there'd be even bigger holes in everything. "But they wouldn't make a ruckus just for the sake of making a ruckus," Vinnie pointed out. "This all had to be for _something_."

And as he thought back on all the wild maneuvers, the delighted cackles, the random shots fired, Throttle felt realization sink in with a chill. "It was a distraction. They wanted to take our attention away from what was really going on."

Throttle didn't need to see the unhappy frown Tamerin made to figure out that she had been thinking the same thing. Beside him, Vinnie let out a grunt as he shook his head. "Distraction from what?" he wanted to know.

As they all automatically increased speed, Throttle had the unsettling feeling they were going to learn the answer to that question soon enough.

As they neared Second Chance Garage, Tamerin glanced over at Modo. A nervous tension fluttered through her and Throttle's bond. "Have you seen Ashlin?" she asked.

Modo frowned and shook his head. "Just hope she's safe," he mumbled.

Vinnie suddenly let out an unhappy sound, making Throttle turn his attention back to the garage. The sight that met his eyes as the four of them pulled up outside made his heart sink.

The parts and tools they kept in the yard were scattered, dented, or completely destroyed. The small patch of grass that had once been their lawn had been burnt to a crisp, and the main overhead door had a gaping hole that was still smoking around the edges. Like most of the surrounding buildings, flames crackled in places and the air reeked of smoke, burnt wood and metal.

"Damn it," Throttle muttered.

He hadn't seen any of this morning's invaders hit the ground and bust into any buildings, so the only thing on his mind as they dismounted was how long it was going to take to clean all this up. So it took him by surprise when, as he was flipping over what looked like a melted bike seat with his foot, Vinnie frowned and said, "Do you hear that?"

Throttle paused to listen for a moment, then shrugged. It sounded like someone was crying, which didn't surprise him. Lots of people, young and old, were crying right now. Stuff like this had a habit of leaving you in shock, and so you either laughed or cried in response. Used to happen around here all the time.

Vinnie was shaking his head and hurrying forward. "It's Charley-girl," he said, voice insistent.

Frowning, Throttle listened harder; it was definitely a woman, and she was sobbing almost hysterically. "Are you sure?" he asked dryly.

He'd never heard Charley lose it like that before.

"Of course I'm sure," Vinnie snapped. "She's my wife, you think I don't know how she sounds when she cries?"

"No, but I've never heard her cry quite like _that_."

"Well, I have. And I'll be damned if that's not her."

Ignoring the regular door, which looked like it wouldn't open thanks to being partly melted anyway, Vinnie hurried inside via the smoldering hole. The rest of them quickly followed, and as he scanned the room, Throttle realized unhappily that a lot more had been done here than a quick blast to the outside.

Their work-space was a total disaster. Lockers were tipped over, tables and benches were smashed, tools were dented and thrown everywhere. There were multiple holes and scorch marks on the walls, and as they headed farther inside, it was obvious someone had put up one hell of a fight.

And they found that someone sitting crumpled on the floor in the room at the very back of the garage, her clothes torn and dirty and her face pressed into her hand, weeping like her very soul was about to come apart. Vinnie ran to her, dropping to his knees and putting his arms around her. Charley barely reacted except to drop the blaster she was holding in her other hand.

"It's okay, Charley-girl," Vinnie told her, his voice both loving and worried. "I'm here now. Are you all right? Did they hurt you?"

He spoke gently as he pushed her grimy hair back from her face. Charley's breath hitched for a second, sounding almost like she was choking as she whipped her head up and grabbed her husband's shoulder. Anguish was etched across her face. "They took him."

Vinnie frowned, puzzled. "What? Charley, who--"

"I said they took him," Charley cried between sobs.

"I heard, but who--"

" _They took our son!_ "

She fell against her husband's chest and dissolved in tears so pain-filled it made Throttle's heart hurt to listen to them--as if what she had just screamed hadn't been painful enough. Shaking his head, he took a step back, until he was leaning against a battered table for support. This just couldn't be real--it was too insane. What the hell could they possibly want with a two-year-old mouse?

He must have said this out loud without realizing it, because Tamerin, arms wrapped around herself, suddenly shrugged and murmured, "Ransom, I would assume."

But Throttle continued shaking his head as the word 'why' kept repeating in his mind. Why Vector? No child was any less or more important, but out of any young mouse they could have taken, why him? It was too big of a coincidence to have happened just by chance, so why, or rather how, had they known? Every fiber of his being was telling him that they had known damn well what they were doing, and who they were hurting. And he could tell by the looks on their faces that both Tamerin and Modo were thinking the same thing.

They didn't get a chance to discuss the next course of action--which naturally would involve them embarking on an immediate rescue mission--because someone chose that instant to invite themselves into the garage and invade this private moment. And he just happened to be someone that Throttle only had to look at to know that his day could actually get worse. He wasn't sure how, but he felt in his gut that it was about to.

"Whatever she sent you here to tell me," he coldly told Vice, Carbine's ever-dutiful aide, "I know I'm not going to like it."

With his normal expression that was akin to someone attending a funeral, Vice said, "Her Generalship wishes to speak to you at the base immediately. And I have a feeling you're going to hate what she has to say."


	19. Chapter 19

Each of them were expected at the base, but no one was really ready to go anywhere at this point. Charley was still sobbing uncontrollably while Vinnie struggled to calm her down. He clung to her tightly and rocked her as she wept, whispering to her over and over that they'd get their son back, but nothing would console her.

Throttle couldn't say he didn't understand--and feel--her pain. Looking around the room right now, and seeing all the holes blasted in the walls and the broken and smoldering pieces of furniture that were thrown everywhere, it was easy to imagine what had happened here. As soon as she realized what the ones invading the garage wanted, Charley had fought with every last bit of strength in every cell of her body, like only a mother protecting her precious child could.

But not even all her strength had been enough, and now she was curled up and crying with so much agony and such force, you couldn't help but feel that in her broken heart she thought that life without her son wasn't worth living.

It was a feeling that wasn't going to last. She was tougher than that, and Throttle knew it wouldn't be long before she was up and ready to go make the ones responsible for this sorry they were ever born. In the meantime, Vinnie finally coaxed her to stand, keeping his arms tightly around her as she slumped against him. His expression was solemn as he looked over at Throttle with a tightness behind his eyes that said he was fighting off tears of his own. "I'll catch up with you later," Vinnie said quietly. "I'm going to take her home first."

After the stricken parents were gone, Modo gave his head a shake. "I need to make sure Ako's okay," he mumbled. "And maybe..."

He shook his head again and didn't finish, his gaze distant as he left the garage. Throttle turned back to Vice and, even though he knew her Generalship didn't like to be kept waiting, told him to inform her that he and Tamerin would be along a little later. First things first; they needed to go home and check on Michio.

When they got back and told him through his bedroom door that it was clear to come out, Michio came running out and launched himself into his adopted father's arms so hard Throttle almost fell over backwards. "It's okay," Throttle told him, as his son hugged him so tight he felt his neck pop. "It's a little messy out there, but...it's safe now."

He and Tam had agreed during the ride home not to tell him about Vector just yet. They were both hoping that they would be able to get him back quickly--though Throttle still didn't understand how this had happened. If Vector was the only child taken, then the whole attack had been for the sole purpose of nabbing him. But how on Mars had they known? Vector's parentage wasn't something that was fully understood right here at home, let alone outside their borders.

Hopefully, that was one of the things Carbine wanted to talk to them about. Maybe she knew something about this whole mess they didn't. After passing Michio to Tamerin so she could enjoy being strangle-hugged for a minute, Throttle said, "We need to head to the base for a bit. Will you be all right here by yourself? Or do you want us drop you off at Modo's?"

Michio rolled his eyes as Tamerin put him down again. "I'm not a baby," he muttered. "I want to go see if my friends are okay."

Nearly every citizen was outside right now working on cleaning everything up, while members of the military were lending a hand as well as performing sweeps of the area. Throttle imagined that after today, security was going to see a big increase.

Tamerin left her bike behind and climbed on Throttle's this time, snugging her arms around him while Michio scurried a few residences down from their home. As he rode away, Throttle looked back to see him joining in to help separate the detritus of destroyed property from the parts that were still salvageable.

When they reached the base Vice was waiting for them out front, and with his usual jittery agitation and deadpan expression he led them inside to Carbine's personal office before walking briskly away. The General was sitting behind her desk as they came in, and she looked tired as she set the report she had been reading down and got to her feet. "Sit down, please," she told them, gesturing to a pair of metal chairs facing her desk.

After they both sat, she came around to the front of her desk and crossed her arms. Her expression was calm, but clearly unhappy as she surveyed the two of them for a moment. "Should we wait for the others?" Throttle asked uncertainly.

Carbine shook her head. "I can fill them in later. I was going to talk to all of you at once, but now that I think about it, it might be better to address the two of you first."

Frowning, Throttle glanced at Tamerin, but she was busy studying her hands and didn't look up, though he could feel a tremor of unease and nervousness coming through their bond. "Go on," he said, turning to Carbine again.

"As I'm sure you've figured out by now," she began, her expression dour, "there was nothing random about what happened today. Everything was carefully plotted, calculated, and executed. We're not sure how long this was coming, but it sure wasn't decided overnight."

"We all thought as much," said Throttle.

Carbine gave an absent nod and shifted her gaze to her boots, tapping her heel on the floor for a moment before continuing. "The part that has all of us here at the base upset is that we're pretty sure they had inside help."

Throttle felt his eyebrows raise in dry surprise. "What kind of inside help?"

Lifting her head, the General met his eyes with a steely gaze. "We've looked over how their attack was coordinated, and we're positive they had beforehand knowledge of where all our guards would be positioned this morning. Not only that, we have detailed reports dating back for months about how lousy all the provisions both the sand raiders and the rats currently possess are doing--especially their weapons. _Someone_ had to help arm them for this. And right now no one on this planet is better armed than us mice."

She paused, and Throttle sank back in his seat as he processed this. When he thought about it, it made sense--yet at the same time made no sense at all. "I give up; why the hell would a mouse help arm our enemies when they know they'll probably wind up getting shot with the very weapons they hand them?"

"I never said it was a mouse responsible for this."

As she spoke, Carbine shifted her eyes to the one sitting beside him. Tamerin sat up straighter...while Throttle slumped further in his seat and pushed his specs up so he could rub his eyes. "Carbine," he said wearily, "if you're actually suggesting what I think you're suggesting, I swear I'm going to reach down your throat, rip out your spinal cord and strangle you to death with it."

Carbine let out a snort and rolled her eyes. "I didn't mean _her_ , I meant--"

Tamerin abruptly got to her feet, startling both mice. Throttle felt something icy shoot through their bond. "She means Ashlin."

Throttle was so surprised for a moment all he could do was stare. But the hardness in the military leader's face told him that Tam had guessed correctly. He took a minute to think about _that_ \--think about his sweet little sis. Always gentle, always helpful. Always loving. And he tried to imagine her doing what Carbine was obviously suggesting she had done; betray everyone she cared about. "Did you just ride in from Stupidsville?" he wondered caustically.

Carbine faced him with an angry scoff. "You know how I said I was happy being single?" she asked, her voice taking on that irritated tone he was all too familiar with. "Conversations like this make me even happier about it."

"Yeah, yeah," Throttle muttered as he stood with a glare, "you're ecstatic to be free of me. How about--"

"You're wrong," Tamerin broke in, so sharply and angrily it made both of them shut up and look at her. The storminess in her face matched the dark mood coursing through her.

"I've heard the stories," Carbine told her, though she eyed her warily for a second first. "We've had an increase of new recruits in the last few months, and a lot of them have plenty to say about things that have happened ever since she came here. We've been investigating the situation and have discovered evidence that lends weight to their claims."

Tamerin was glaring daggers. "I don't care what you've heard," she said darkly, her voice full of warning. "And I don't care what kind of 'evidence' you think you've found. I raised that little girl myself. I know her better than anybody, and that anyone, for any reason, would actually suggest that she's capable of something like this..."

Her icy gaze grew even sharper as her eyes narrowed. Though it looked like she sensed that she was treading in dangerous territory, Carbine refused to back down. "I don't doubt that you know what's going on here better than anyone," she responded slowly. "Perimeter patrol saw you ride out into the desert with her late last night."

Throttle looked at his mate with a puzzled frown. "You did? Why?"

For a brief second Tamerin's expression faltered, but it quickly cooled again. Her eyes, which never left Carbine, turned hard. "I took her to see her father," she said, her tone even and frank. "I didn't see any reason not to."

"Oh, no?" the General said flatly. "He's a rat, isn't he? I'd say that's a good reason not to--especially right now."

"Why? It was sand raiders, not rats, that rolled through here today. And they're fighting against each other, not together. I didn't see any rats out there."

"Maybe not yet, but you will. That's one of the things I called you over here to tell you; our Intel discovered two groups that have secretly formed an alliance. We have every reason to believe that what happened this morning is a direct result of that."

"That sounds plausible," Throttle put in. Highly plausible, actually. Neither Martian race was strong enough to strike at mice on their own, but if they suddenly set aside their differences and team up it would no doubt make them bold enough to try. And today they'd done more than just try, he reminded himself bitterly. He had a feeling that more attacks were on the way now that they knew that mice had grown too relaxed in their obviously false sense of security that they _wouldn't_ be attacked--which would probably lead to more alliances, too. The part that still didn't make sense to him was where their new arsenal had come from--and why Carbine thought Ashlin was somehow involved.

"Isn't it obvious?" she said when he brought this up. "She's half rat, so she probably sympathizes with what's happening to her kinsmen. I'm not saying I blame her for that or think she's done anything deliberately malicious, but I've heard how she hasn't exactly gotten along with anyone since moving here. Under the circumstances I don't think it would be very difficult for one of her smooth-talking relatives to manipulate her into, say, sneaking them some sensitive information."

"And just how the hell does Ashlin have access to any sensitive information around here?" Tamerin demanded sharply before Throttle had a chance to respond.

"You're the one who trained her," the General pointed out. "You tell me."

"She knows how to repair damaged machinery and take care of wounded," Tamerin snapped. "I never trained her to be a spy."

"Well, when you're a rat, that part kind of comes naturally."

Throttle would swear he felt his own blood start to warm as his mate's temper flared, but she kept it under control and spoke calmly as she said, "Exactly when would she have had an opportunity to do what you're saying she did? If perimeter patrol saw me ride out with her, then I'm sure they saw me ride back alone later. So far as I know she's still with her father."

"You left her with him?" Throttle asked in surprise.

Tamerin shrugged and glanced down. "It's what she wanted," she mumbled.

"They saw you," Carbine told her. "They also saw a rat drop Ashlin off about an hour later."

Throttle felt his mate's mood lift abruptly as she looked up again. "She came back?"

"Yes. But she was seen heading back out on foot this morning, just before dawn."

Tamerin drooped again. "Oh."

"I can understand why you might find all this hard to accept," Carbine went on, "but at least consider this: no homes or businesses were directly broken into today except for yours. No other child was kidnapped. And the only way the sand raiders could have possibly known exactly where to go and who to grab was if someone told them."

For a moment no one spoke as the tan mouse and stone-faced Imeeran stared mutely at the equally stony general. It was Tamerin who eventually broke the uncomfortable silence, her tone quiet--and dangerous.

"So, what you're saying is that you think that little girl deliberately told someone about Vector when she knew full well the kind of danger she'd be putting him in-- _and_ that she knew about the coming attack but didn't run straight here to warn us about it?"

For a second time, Carbine let her chilly expression answer for her.

Throttle felt a hot burst of rage from his mate an instant before she jerked a step forward--like she was going to deck the active general right in the face. Carbine actually flinched, but instead of getting violent Tamerin stepped back again with a shake of her head. "Can't believe I was actually starting to like you," she muttered blackly.

She spun on her heel and stalked toward the door. "You're wrong," she repeated, snapping the words over her shoulder. "And I'll prove it."

As her footsteps pounded away down the hall, Throttle turned to Carbine, who looked ruffled. "She let you off easy," he informed her.

"Oh?" she asked dryly.

"She _is_ the girl who fractured Modo's skull. But never mind that--I agree with her. There's no doubt that the raiders had help, and maybe rats were involved, but if Ashlin had the slightest clue what was going on, she would have hollered it in the streets when she came back last night. You've got this pinned on the wrong rodent."

Having said this, he turned and hurried out of the room. As he chased after his mate he heard Carbine call after him, but he didn't pay attention as he worked his way to the nearest exit and ran to his bike. She let out an unhappy buzz as he neared, which told him that Tamerin had passed by here, her fury palpable enough for the sentient vehicle to sense it and grow worried. He knew how fast Tam could run; she was probably half-way home by now, and he quickly mounted his bike and started the engine.

He was just about to take off when someone walked up behind him and cleared their throat loudly. "The General didn't say you could leave yet," said Vice.

"That's okay," Throttle responded distractedly. "I didn't ask if I could."

The stiff mouse came around to the front of his bike with a pert frown of disapproval. Throttle knew Carbine had plenty of aides, so he really wished she'd send someone else to relay her messages. She had to know how much it irritated him to have to look at this one. "She said you'd say that," Vice informed him coolly.

Throttle snorted. "I'll bet," he muttered.

"She also said to ask you if the name Dr. Karbunkle rings any bells."

Throttle felt something dark and unpleasant pool in his stomach, and he shoved his specs up onto his forehead so he could freely display the death-glare he was now giving. "That's not funny."

"I never joke."

With a weary groan, Throttle turned away and looked off in the direction of home for a minute. Tamerin had probably reached her bike by now, and if he knew her at all, she'd ride straight out to the nearest sand raider outpost to start shooting and ask questions later. She'd do anything if it meant clearing Ashlin of suspicion--and she'd probably try to rescue Vector by herself while she was at it.

He didn't like the idea of her heading out there alone. He wasn't worried about her getting hurt, but he knew a lot more about the desert and the way their enemies operated than she did. He should be at her side for this...but at the same time he felt himself hesitate. Carbine wouldn't bring something like this up without damn good reason, and as sure as he was that he was going to hate finding out that reason, he had to know.

He debated with himself for a long moment before finally, with a quiet growl, he dismounted and faced Vice again. "This had better be good."

* * *

After leaving the garage, Modo rode straight home. He found Ako right where he'd left him: locked in his room and tucked away in his little bed, though during his absence Ako had flipped the basket over and was cowering under it. The little guy was too young to understand what was going on beyond the fact that his father was upset about something, and when Modo lovingly picked him up his tiny body quivered as Ako twisted to curl up in the safety of his father's arm.

Modo stroked behind his ears and murmured reassuringly to his frightened son as he began checking each room of their home. There was thankfully only a minimal amount of damage done to the outside, and on the inside he found a handful of objects that had fallen over or tumbled off a shelf, jarred loose from vibrations caused by the explosions. Nothing of importance or consequence, but instead of feeling relieved, Modo felt his heart sink as he looked around the undamaged, empty rooms. He had been hoping that Ashlin had come home at some point.

But just like when he first woke up today, there wasn't the slightest trace of her. And as much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn't run out and look for her right now. All he could do as he headed over to check on his mama was silently hope that wherever Ashlin was, she was safe and unharmed.

* * *

"That depends on your definition of good," Carbine told Throttle grimly when he repeated the same words he spoke to Vice minutes earlier.

She quickly led him to the gray-white corridors of the medical wing, where she stopped and stood outside of a window that was set high in the wall and extended for a number of feet. Throttle gazed through the thick glass with her and saw a large, sterile-looking room lined with beds--rows and rows of beds. Each one was covered in a heavy white sheet, and underneath them was a suspicious mouse-like shape.

Throttle's eyes knew what they were seeing, but his mind didn't want to believe it. He'd come across a scene like this too many times in the past and didn't want to deal with it again. "Are they...?"

"Dead," Carbine said bluntly. "All of them."

He tried not to look any farther into the room, but there were well over a dozen occupied beds already in his line of sight. "How?" he heard himself ask.

"It's been happening for the last several days," his ex responded quietly. "We haven't let word get out because we don't want to panic the populace."

"How?" Throttle repeated, louder this time.

Carbine breathed a sigh and folded her arms. "The alliance wasn't the only thing our Intel discovered. The group of rats that are now working with sand raiders--presumably the ones who attacked this morning--happened to uncover something that should have stayed buried."

Throttle didn't like where this was going. Not one little bit. "Tell me this doesn't have something to do with a secret lab."

The look the General gave him as she turned from the window was apologetic. "A small one, and so well-hidden we had no idea it was there. We're not certain, but we're assuming the new weapons the rats have been using against us are now being shared with their smelly allies."

The tan mouse flicked a glance at the row of bodies again, but only for an instant. An instant was all he could stomach--barely. "Must be a pretty potent weapon," he noted flatly.

"No joke," Carbine muttered. "We weren't expecting this at all. Most of them were killed during a sneak attack on a routine border patrol a couple of days ago."

"You were the one who said we should lay low and keep out of it," Throttle reminded her dully. "I could have told you it was only a matter of time before they started coming directly after us, too--and I'm pretty sure I did."

His ex set her jaw and glared at him, her dark eyes flashing with annoyance--and pain. She was worn out and hurting from all this, and his sarcasm clearly wasn't helping; Throttle felt a twinge of remorse. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Grunting, Carbine faced the window again. As she watched, a pair of medics came into view, bringing with them a stretcher bearing another prone figure. Their expressions tired and somber, they placed the newest fatality alongside the others. Throttle didn't recognize him, but he looked small--young. He felt sickened as he suddenly found himself thinking about Rimfire and was actually glad the young mouse was too injured to be on active duty right now.

"We won't be able to keep this quiet much longer," Carbine murmured distantly. "Their families need to be told...funerals need to be arranged..."

She gave her head a shake and looked away. Throttle couldn't seem to pull his eyes from the window as the medics covered the small mouse and left the room solemnly. "What are they using?" he asked.

From what he could tell, the rows of bodies looked intact, and the newest addition didn't seem to have a scratch on him. "Some kind of toxin they fire from a weapon smaller than a blaster," the General told him tiredly. "We're not sure how many there are, but they definitely have more than one."

"And there's nothing the medics can do for them?"

She gave her head a shake. "I've seen it in action up close. It spreads through the blood so fast, you're dead in seconds if the needle so much as grazes you. We're trying out body armor, but the shit is so strong it burns through metal."

"And to think the good doctor made it all possible," Throttle muttered blackly. "What's the plan?"

"We're still working on it. Right now we're anticipating another attack--and we're pretty sure it's going to be a lot worse than this one. We need to prepare for that before we do anything else."

Throttle nodded, understanding. They didn't have anyone to spare to scope out the lab right now. He only had to think about it for a second before he knew what he was going to do.

Carbine was studying his expression and seemed to know, too. "You're going alone?"

"Going on ahead," he corrected. "My bros'll be along."

Eventually, he added silently. Vinnie had put on a brave face earlier, but Throttle knew he was every bit as heartbroken over his son as his wife was right now. But he was sure the white mouse would pull himself together and head to the base soon. And then he would gladly take the chance to get into trouble, if only to distract himself. As for Modo...

"I don't want to be around when you tell the big guy what you just told us. Tamerin's reaction was pretty damn mild compared to how _he's_ going to blow his top."

"I'll break it to him gently," Carbine promised. "But there's too much evidence pointing in Ashlin's direction for me to rule her out."

Her expression softened a little. "I'm sorry," she added quietly.

"Not as sorry as Modo's gonna be," Throttle told her, without humor.

Looking like she was ready for this meeting to be over, the General passed him a control chip containing a digital map showing the way to the lab, easily uploaded into his bike's computer.

"Just do us all a favor," she called after him as he turned and started walking away. "Don't go getting yourself killed, okay? We could use a hand once you're done over there."

There was a hint of wry amusement in her voice, and Throttle paused to send her a tired smile over his shoulder. "No worries. I'll be back before you know it."


	20. Chapter 20

_In this world you tried_  
_Not leaving me alone behind_  
_There's no other way_  
_I'll pray to the gods: let him stay_  
~Memories;  Within Temptation

"Impressive, guys," Tamerin groused as she looked around the vacant cavern she was standing in. "Very, very impressive."

She hadn't been too far off when she noted to herself last night that the rats could probably remove their entire operation in a matter of minutes. Not only were they gone, they had removed every last trace of their presence ever having been here. As she checked the empty tunnels and hollow caverns, she saw layers of dust on flat surfaces and animal droppings scattered in corners. There was even a nest housing some small fuzzy animal and her squirming, nursing young tucked in a hole in one of the rock walls--a spot she distinctly remembered being used to hang rows of mounted weapon racks.

And of course Nitro had given her no clue where he and the others could be found outside of this place. Which meant she had already exhausted both her ideas for locating Ashlin, having attempted the first before riding out here. She'd tried raising the young Martian on her communicator, and when no one answered, she had typed the wrist unit's ID number into her personal data pad and pulled up the tracking system. Within seconds she had pinpointed the communicator's location; at her and Modo's home.

Tamerin knew that Ashlin was nowhere near there, so that could only mean she had left the unit behind. Which left her out of ideas and feeling extremely frustrated.

Her next plan was to ride around the desert and start pouncing on anything that moved and demanding answers, but as she was stepping out of the main tunnel and back onto the floor of the canyon her ears picked up the sound of a bike engine in the distance.

She'd recognize that sound anywhere, and she quickly mounted her own bike and raced back up to even ground. They were too far apart to sense each other, and by the time she reached level sand Throttle was nowhere in sight, the sound of his bike out of her range of hearing. But before it was gone she had been able to pinpoint which direction he was heading, and it wasn't long until she located the tracks left by his bike, which she would also recognize anywhere.

She was miles behind by now, but Throttle wouldn't have come out this far for no reason. Revving the engine and keeping parallel to the tracks in the sand, she took off again.

* * *

When he finally reached the entrance, Throttle could see how the lab had gone undiscovered all this time. It was miles and miles from anywhere, hidden at the bottom of a group of uneven, towering hills, where over time the winds had buried the door beneath several feet of sand. It looked like it been uncovered only recently, the sand that had been dug away still mounded nearby. He gauged the position of the door for a moment and calculated that a pretty decent-sized structure could be hidden here, given that the door was built right into the base of the largest hill. The point of ground he now stood was so low, the sand-covered building could easily cover roughly a mile or so--and that was assuming there were no floors spanning below his feet.

A place as isolated as this felt almost eerily silent, and it was with blaster drawn and breath held that he crept for the open doorway. Judging by the blackened edges of the frame, the door had been blown open with explosives, and he found the door itself lying several feet inside in a twisted heap.

There wasn't much else to see. Light was scarce, since only a few of the glass tubes set in the ceiling and walls were still intact, and the weak light they cast barely reflected off the dingy silver of the walls and floor. Through his specs he saw discarded bits of machinery and equipment, most of which were too damaged and broken to name. Everything was covered in dust and the air smelled stale, like the whole place had been closed up for longer than just a couple of years.

As far as he was concerned, it should have stayed closed forever. Broken or not, everything he saw reminded him of places, people, and a war he would very much like to forget. Even if he wasn't keeping an eye open for any rats lurking in the shadows, the nature of this place automatically put him on edge.

As he started moving from room to room, Throttle noted that the layout of the place wasn't as big as he first thought. Small square and rectangular room connected to short, straight hallways that connected to more rooms, or storage closets. Most of the rooms were easily accessible, but some of them were blocked by fallen equipment or sealed doors. It was hard to tell if the damage done to most of the interior had been caused by time, the rats who had recently cleaned it out, an attack that had come before it was sealed up, or a combination of all three. Whatever the case, it looked like everything had been picked clean, so he doubted anyone was still hanging around.

Even so, he kept his blaster drawn as he headed farther inside. At one point he found what was either a room that had been battle-damaged or had never been completely finished; there was a rickety metal frame stretching from end to end in place of where the floor should have been, with a pit-like area yawning underneath it. What looked like a collection of tools and other equipment were scattered on the metal foundation beneath his feet.

The scaffold-like frame had a beam of steel placed across it, like a makeshift catwalk; Throttle walked the length of it easily, the clang of his boots echoing in the space below. Through the open doorway on the other side he found the main part of the lab, loaded with tables covered in tubing, glass beakers, broken computers--and sharp tools lined up on what looked like dissection trays.

Grimacing, Throttle looked away and scoped out the rest of the room. There were several shadow-filled doorways, a row of what could only be called operating tables, and a set of storage lockers lined up along one wall. They were already broken into, the contents stripped bare. Drifting over to a locker lying on its side, he absently nudged the mangled door with his foot as he gazed down at the empty shelves--just as he heard a scratching sound somewhere behind him.

It could have been anything--an animal that had wandered in--but he instantly dove to the floor and rolled for cover behind the fallen locker. He was just pulling himself up into a crouch when the shrill sound of a blaster firing cut through the air, followed by the sound of glass shattering and raining musically to the floor.

Throttle waited a beat, then peeked over the top of the locker--just in time to see the shape of a rat dart by. The room was full of shadows and his fur was dark, but there was no mistaking that it was a rat--the scrawniest, ugliest rat he had ever seen. With a raspy intake of breath, the scraggly creature bolted through a doorway on the opposite side of the room. Throttle straightened up and took off after him.

Connected to the lab was another hallway, a long one with multiple doors on either side. The retreating rat suddenly veered sharply and cut into a room on the right. Pivoting on his heel, Throttle shot in after him and found himself in a room even more cluttered with junk than the rest of the place--and with a broken lighting tube in the ceiling. The rest of the lights were either dark or cracked, and the lone tube that still glowed with weak, brackish light flickered almost constantly, plunging the room in darkness every few seconds. Even with his specs on, he nearly missed the rat in the almost strobe light effect.

But he eventually spotted the lanky shape at the other end of the room, slinking for safety behind a toppled, useless piece of machinery; Throttle quickly darted to the other side of a large computer console in the middle of the room. Blaster raised and ready, he was just edging to peer around it again when he felt a brush of air near his head--like something had just flown past his ear--followed by the dull clunk of something metallic hitting the wall behind him.

Definitely not a laser blast, but the way his hair was now standing on end told him that he'd just been shot at--and he was in danger of being shot at again. He edged back and ducked down, leaning to check around the opposite side of the console, but when he scanned the lengthy room the starving rat was nowhere in sight. Eyes narrowed in the flickering light, all his instincts were telling him that he was in danger.

He held still and listened hard; several seconds of silence ticked by, and then from somewhere to his left he thought he heard movement. Less than an instant later there was a sharp clang directly above his head as something struck the back of the metal console, followed by a low hissing sound.

No, not a hissing; a sizzling. With a strange sinking in his stomach, he leaned back a little and looked up. A foot or so above his nose was a small, cylinder-shaped object filled with liquid, similar to a doctor's syringe. Also like a syringe, there was something sharp and needle-like on one end, and it was embedded right in the hard metal. Or what was left of the metal; the yellowish liquid was burning its way right through it. Like an acid.

Throttle hastily stood and edged around the console, blaster poised in the direction the shot had come from as his eyes strained against the relentless flickering. He couldn't see anything in the darkened end of the room where the weak light didn't reach--but his ears suddenly twitched. Someone was coming up behind him, and without stopping to think about it first he whirled and fired.

The scrawny rat he had seen a moment ago let out a pained cry and dropped the blaster he had been aiming. Clutching his now smoking arm, he spun and bolted for the nearest door, muttering a barrage of furious curses.

And then he was gone, and for a brief moment silence filled the room--and then Throttle heard a quiet pop. Nothing loud, nothing forceful; just a little burst of air that signaled that a projectile had just been fired. He felt a pinching sensation on the back of his shoulder, just below and a little to the left of his neck, no sharper than the bite of a lazy insect.

It still made him drop his blaster and grope wildly for his shoulder. His fingers brushed something cold and hard, something that wiggled loose and fell away when he touched it. Just before he heard it hit the floor with a pinging sound, he felt the heat.

It was a sensation he couldn't really name or explain. It was sharp and harsh but didn't really hurt. It swelled like there was a tiny pool of hot liquid flooding beneath his skin, centered between his neck and shoulder-- and in less than an instant it had spread through the rest of him, rushing through his veins like a wild, burning river.

He twisted his head to look at his shoulder, but nothing was visibly happening on the surface. His hand was still clutching the spot where the needle had been, fingers digging into his fur--like that would somehow help--but he couldn't feel the shape of his shoulder anymore. For that matter, he couldn't feel his fingers anymore either. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw movement, but when he tried to turn his head again to see what it was, it felt like his neck was going to dissolve into a puddle of frothy liquid.

He still tried. Gathering all his energy he attempted to rotate his whole body, but all of a sudden his entire being felt powerless--weightless. Like if he took a deep breath, the air in his lungs would lift him straight into the sky. A tingling sensation spread through his skull and made him catch his breath, and for a moment he really thought he was going to start floating.

Instead he fell. His legs suddenly twisted and crumpled, like they weren't solid anymore. Were they? He couldn't tell. The burning heat that mere moments ago had flooded his body from head to toe seemed like it had faded already, or maybe he had just stopped being able to feel it.

When his body hit the ground he didn't feel that either, even though his arms landed uselessly out at his sides, limp as strands of rope. His chin cracked against the floor, making his specs bounce off his nose. They landed a foot or so in front of his eyes, bouncing twice before they settled and held still. Strange; an instant or two of silence seemed to pass between the time he saw them hit and when his ears heard the clatters they made.

Stranger still, it felt like he was looking down a long tunnel as another rat, every bit as skinny as the first one, suddenly shot out of hiding and ran past him, even though his boots passed mere inches in front of his nose. The toe of one of his boots nicked Throttle's specs, sending them skidding across the floor before they slid to a stop again. The sound of plastic scratching against the metal floor and the heavy thumps of the rat's boots echoed hollowly in his ears seconds after the rat was gone. 

After that everything went completely silent, and the flickering of the light looked like it was flashing through a distant haze. As he lay there, Throttle suddenly found himself thinking that this wasn't quite how he'd imagined this happening. Not that he'd ever really pictured it, but whenever the idea of his time to go happened to cross his mind, the words 'flaming glory' were always in there somewhere. If he could feel anything, he'd probably be a little embarrassed about now.

The only thing he could still feel was the beat of his own heart, thumping sharply against his ribs as they pressed hard against the cold floor. And then that went still and silent too, and as the light stopped flashing and darkness blanketed him and the room, a sense of sadness swept over him. With it came a single image, and he whispered to it in his mind before that, too, was silenced.

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Tam._

* * *

Tamerin followed Throttle's tracks to a group of hills, where she found his bike parked outside a door built directly into the rocky interior of one of the hills. She didn't know what this place was or why he had come here, but she assumed that it went deep underground. Her mate would never have come back out and gone somewhere else without his bike, and there was still too much distance between them for her to sense him. Keeping her hand close to her hip holster and her eyes sharp, she stepped inside.

Within a few minutes she concluded that the rundown place was a lab, and that it must have been sealed up for a long time, until someone reopened it fairly recently. From the look of things and the heavy silence in the air, it had since been abandoned again. It was also dimly lit and full of deep shadows, but her pupils quickly went to work, stretching themselves to the limits and enabling her to peer into corners and around busted computer consoles, the latter of which appeared to have had components ripped out, leaving broken wires dangling.

Most of the rooms were in the same sort of state, though some of them were sealed off. She didn't think breaking into them would be much trouble, but her goal right now was to locate Throttle, and she continued to head deeper inside as she followed what she guessed was the same path he had taken. There was a lot of dust in the air, but she could detect a faint whiff of his unique scent, suggesting that he had passed this way within the last half-hour or so.

Following the odor and the occasional boot-print in the dust, she suddenly found herself stepping into a room--and almost _through_ the room, since it didn't have a floor. For an instant she felt that familiar icy chill spread through her chest, seizing up her heart and making her head spin as she had visions of the gaping space beneath her feet rising up, swallowing her whole...

And then her eyes focused again and she saw that it wasn't _that_ far of a drop, plus there was a ladder attached to the metal frame installed where the floor should have been. Falling wouldn't really hurt and climbing back up was a cinch--no big deal. Quicker than the feeling had come, her moment of panic was gone and she was crossing the metal beam attached to the frame, quietly chuckling to herself. Throttle was right; she really must have aeroacrophobia.

Beyond the unfinished room was a large laboratory, complete with all the different kinds of tools you would expect to find. Tamerin only gave the place a quick glance before moving on. There were multiple adjoining rooms and hallways, and she spent the next few minutes checking each one, giving the room a brief scan with her eyes before searching the next one. The place looked deserted and there was no sign of her mate.

After thoroughly checking down another hallway and all the connecting rooms that weren't sealed, she headed back to the laboratory and down the next hall. She glanced absently at a room on the left--and when she turned away and looked to the right she squinted with a grimace. Light was flickering through an open doorway, which caused her severely dilated pupils to contract sharply in response--only to expand the second the light turned off again. And shrink to a dot when it flashed back on. The rapidness of it was painful to the point she felt a headache looming, but she steeled herself and went in anyway.

Not that she particularly wanted to, but one of the first things they taught you when you hit the military academy was that the one place you skipped while doing a sweep would be the one place where something--or someone--was hiding. Hopefully she'd find a way to fix or just plain turn off that light; she was starting to see spots every time the room went black again.

It wasn't until she was squinting through a sea of golden halos as the room descended into darkness again did it dawn on her, and she could have kicked herself as she reached up and pinched the round earring in her right earlobe. The stud instantly responded and sent a blue-tinged digital beam across her eyes; the lighting in the room immediately evened out, even as the tube in the ceiling continued to flicker, and on the edges of her vision numbers counted and calculated the distance of the walls, solid objects in the room...

...The distance between herself and the floor as she suddenly found herself careening toward it after catching her toe on something. It happened so suddenly and unexpectedly she wasn't able to regain her balance, and the next thing she knew she was lying on her belly on the hard steel floor. Glad no one had been around to see that, she pulled a face and started to push herself up off the ground again; something crunched underneath her right palm.

She'd automatically thrown both hands down to blunt her fall, and it looked like she'd ended up smashing something in the process. She lifted her hand and saw bits of plastic stuck to her skin. Bits of green tinted plastic. Green tinted plastic that had once been connected to a set of now mangled frames. She stared at her palm for a second or two more, then gingerly lifted the frames by one of the temples.

The swell of fear that suddenly came over her was irrational--or at least that was what she told herself. They were only Throttle's specs. Just because they were lying on the floor didn't mean anything was wrong. Sure, he might be annoyed when he found out she'd broken them, but he could always get new ones.

And then she set the ruined frames down and looked over her shoulder.

What she saw was impossible. Absolutely impossible. Her mate couldn't be lying on the floor with her, mere inches away. She couldn't have tripped over his boot, with her ankle now hooked on the back of his leg. It just wasn't possible. They were so close--they were _touching_ \--and yet...

Everything else was forgotten. The room was gone. Her need to find Ashlin was gone. Nothing remained--nothing else mattered. Only the being she fumbled for, turning him over, feeling his chest, his face. Searching for something-- _anything_.

She clutched his face in her hands, touched her cheek to his nose, crammed her ear against his chest. Hoisted his head up from the floor and pressed their foreheads together, her hands trembling as she tried to feel...

Nothing. That was what she felt. No breath, no heartbeat, no brush of his mind connecting with hers. She might as well have been handling a block of wood. It was impossible--even if he was unconscious, there'd still be something. And that's because he's _not_ , something inside her said.

Not unconscious. Not asleep.

Not alive.

With this realization came a ripple of sensation that seemed to start at the tips of her fingers as they clutched at the fur of his chest, and as it worked its way through the rest of her it grew sharper, harsher until it felt like she was being rattled to the core. It was agonizing--like her very soul was being ripped apart.

The pain spread, cutting into her heart, shredding up her veins. It felt like she was be torn up from the inside-out, but she didn't care. There was no reason left to care. The pain felt alive, a wild beast ravaging its way up into her lungs, her throat, until her voice broke loose and echoed all around her.

She couldn't see anymore, couldn't feel the body of her mate as she clung to him. And when the sound of her own cry faded and went silent, there was nothing else left. She felt herself slip away from here and into a place where there was nothing at all.


	21. Chapter 21

Modo would have liked to have stayed with his mama and Ako and let her spoil the two of them for a little while, but instead he--grudgingly--hugged them both goodbye and rode over to the military base. Everything that had happened so far today had felt like some kind of surreal nightmare. When he reached the base and Carbine told him what she had to say, that feeling increased a thousandfold.

He could understand and accept that desperate sand raiders and rats were joining forces. He could understand and accept that one of Karbunkle's desert facilities had gone undetected all this time and now a weapon that should have never seen the light of day was being used against mice. But what he couldn't even begin to understand--and what he definitely couldn't accept--was the part about Ashlin somehow being involved.

He firmly denied the possibility of her having anything to do with what happened today, along with adamantly describing what kind of a person she was...but it seemed like the more he said, the more vilified she became.

Couldn't it be, Carbine argued, that Ashlin's father was part of the group of rats now allied with sand raiders? Modo had no way of knowing that, but he supposed it was possible. Then wouldn't it also be possible that, while she and her father were catching up on the last twenty years, Ashlin had mentioned one or two things about the ones who were currently closest to her--like Vinnie and his son? He didn't know that either since he wasn't there when she saw him, but he responded that he doubted she'd be that careless.

But supposing she had, and supposing that her father was indeed in cahoots with sand raiders, wouldn't it also be possible for word to have been passed along to them? Theoretically, yes. And the General continued to theorize ruthlessly. Didn't Modo and the others keep a large collection of different materials stored at Second Chance? Yes, they did. And could some of those materials be adapted for making weaponry, such as, say, explosive devices? Absolutely. And couldn't Ashlin get access to those materials? Anytime she wanted.

And what about the three of them? Didn't _they_ have their own personal arsenals right at home? Of course--Tamerin and Charley-ma'am, too. So did a lot of their close neighbors. Couldn't it be possible for Ashlin to get her hands on them? Modo didn't see why she'd ever want to, but it probably wouldn't be too difficult.

Wouldn't she also have little difficulty taking those materials, weapons, and any other provisions she may have scrounged up, stashing them somewhere, and then letting her father know where they were once Tamerin-ma'am had taken her to see him last night? Again, he didn't see any reason why she'd do that. Her Generalship pointed out that it was entirely possible that her father had subtly convinced her to do it, no doubt assuring her that anything brought to him would only be used by him and his colony as a means of self defense against sand raider attacks.

Modo disagreed that she'd do that, especially without telling someone--and even if she tried to, it'd be awfully hard for her to do it without anyone noticing. Which led to him being asked if he knew exactly where she'd been for the last few days and what she had been up to. And of course he couldn't be sure on either count, since they'd barely spoken to or seen each other lately, up until she came in last night--which he admitted with a sinking in his chest.

He didn't want to believe any of it--Ashlin had told him just last night that her father hadn't asked for a single thing from her--but as far as Carbine was concerned, the fact that she had left early this morning was an admission of guilt. After all, what reason could she possibly have to disappear other than she must have known that the attack was coming and had fled for safety?

It was too much for Modo to take. Without bothering to excuse himself, he ran out of the base before he lost it and punched a hole through the nearest wall--or maybe he did. His mind was such a blur as he left he couldn't be sure of anything. He had a vague memory of someone handing him the map to the lab and telling him that Throttle had already gone ahead, and an even vaguer memory of mounting Lil' Hoss and taking off into the desert. Along the way his head cleared a little, slowly focusing on one goal: backing up his bro. He'd worry about the rest later.

During the long ride out to the lab his head cleared some more, and by the time he pulled to a stop at the base of the cluster of hills he was more than ready for a nice loud distraction, hopefully one with blazing lasers and large explosions. If he could plant his fists in a few faces, even better.

Parked outside the ruined door was two bikes; Throttle's and Tamerin's. Relieved that they had met up and his bro hadn't gone in alone after all, Modo left Lil' Hoss with them and headed inside. Everything was quiet and the room he found himself in was full of debris and shadows, but the only caution he exercised was readying his arm cannon. Anyone who dared mess with him right now was going to regret it--big time.

As if on cue, he had only taken a few steps forward when he heard movement just ahead of him. His eye caught sight of a figure standing in the darkness with their back to him--which was just the angle he needed in order to see the thick rat tail. Gritting his teeth, he raised his arm until his cannon was level with the back of the figure's head. "Hands up and turn around," he ordered gruffly. "Nice 'n easy."

The figure let out a quiet gasp of surprise--like they hadn't been expecting anyone else to be here. And instead of following his instructions and turning around slowly, they whirled to face him with their hands pressed to their chest. Modo blinked once, then let his arm lower back to his side. An ache of sadness filled his heart. "Ash...what on Mars are you doin' here?"

The petite Martian let out a nervous laugh. "I could ask you the same thing. How'd you even find this place?"

"Long story," Modo responded dully. "And I think the story about how _you_ found this place would be much more interesting."

"It's--kind of complicated," she said vaguely, fidgeting her hands. With a frown, Modo trailed his gaze over her as she continued to fidget. She was dressed funny--almost combat-ready, with loose, camouflage cargo pants, combat boots, and a baggy, long-sleeved jacket that hung past her hips. His frown deepening, Modo realized that Ashlin was holding the front of the jacket shut.

She started to say something, but Modo was already striding forward. Ashlin let out a startled yelp as he reached out and gripped both her wrists; she dropped the sides of the jacket as he jerked her arms away from her chest. He then grabbed the front of her jacket and whipped it open--and saw the boxy contraptions strapped to her belt. There were at least a dozen of them, each one equipped with coils of wires and digital timers.

Time bombs.

The ache in his heart growing, Modo slowly released her jacket and lifted his gaze to her face. "Oh, Ash. What are you _doin'_?"

Ashlin smoothed her clothes with a sheepish look. "I, uh, can explain."

"You'd better," Modo said dryly, "and not just to me. You're under military suspicion of havin' beforehand knowledge about the attack this mornin'."

Something strange flickered across the small Martian's face. "Attack?" she repeated sharply. "What attack? What are you talking about?"

"The sand raiders who tore through our territory today, and kidnapped Vector, and--"

" _What?_ "

The word was practically a shriek. "Are you _kidding_ me? Forget this place then, we need to--"

She made a move to bolt for the door; Modo hastily grabbed her shoulders, stilling her. After giving her a quick explanation about the attack, Vector, and how the lab here was discovered, he quietly told her, "They think your father is in league with them. They think he helped the raiders set this up--and that you helped _him_."

Ashlin's expression went deadpan. "Why would they think that?"

"They say rats and sand raiders are workin' together now," he responded grimly. "Workin' together against us mice."

For a moment Ashlin only stared at him. She gave her head a shake, her eyes never leaving his. "My father and the others--they don't work with or against anyone. They don't have any reason to."

"Oh?" said Modo. He gestured to the explosives still strapped to her belt. "Then what's this about? The only thing I can figure is that they sent you here to blow this place up now that they've taken all they can--so anythin' left over can't be used against them later."

Ashlin's eyebrows drew together. "Wha-- _no_. No one sent me, and no one from my father's colony would bother taking so much as a footstool from this place. Believe me, they're not in need of _anything_."

She paused for a second, then rushed on. "And why would anyone assume he and I were involved in what happened today?" she asked, her tone turning sharp. "Just because he's a rat--just because _I_ am? Does that automatically make me a suspect for everything bad that happens around here? Is that what you think?"

Modo gave his head a shake. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I don't really understand what's goin' on here, or why the military thinks what they do."

"I'm not asking what _they_ think," Ashlin told him, "I'm asking what _you_ think."

Her dark eyes were hard as they searched his face. "Do you _really_ think that if I had any idea something like this was going on, I wouldn't have told you the second I came home last night? And you say Vector was kidnapped?"

Modo nodded.

"Do you really think," Ashlin repeated, her voice lowering, "that I would have _anything_ to do with something that might end up hurting a helpless child? Do you actually believe I could be capable of something like that?"

She fell silent, obviously expecting him to answer as her eyes continued to bore into him. Modo didn't say anything right away as his mind suddenly took a look back over everything the two of them had been through together since they first met. How much she loved all the orphans she and Tamerin used to care for and how much it had broken her heart when she thought Ako had died. How she was willing to trade her life to save any one of them--and how she had traded one of her body parts to save _him_. And he knew she would have given more than that if she'd had to, without so much as hesitating.

And then he took a look at the stricken face gazing so earnestly up at him, unshed tears glistening in her dark eyes. Since moving with him to Mars she hadn't cried once. She'd grown misty-eyed a handful of times, but she hadn't come close to completely breaking down and sobbing--until now. He could tell from the tightness in her face, the way she was bracing herself, that she was seconds away from collapsing in tears--and he knew that it was his fault. It was his suspicion that was causing her so much hurt.

Suspicion of what? he reminded himself. That the same sweet girl who wept beside the ocean and blamed herself for something beyond her control could, for any reason, be responsible for placing a child in danger?

Modo looked at her a moment more--and then reached out, grabbed her by the shoulders and clutched her tightly against his chest. "No, darlin'," he whispered. "I don't believe any of it. Not for a single, solitary second."

Ashlin let out a shaky breath and clung to him with a sniffle; Modo quickly lifted her face and, his own eye cloudy, brushed her tears away until her eyes and face were dry. He then pulled her close again, wrapping her in the safety of his arms and wishing he could keep her there forever. "Don't know where those guys get their information," he mumbled, "but when you disappeared this mornin', I didn't know if..."

He trailed off, but Ashlin lifted her eyebrows curiously. "If what?" she pressed.

"If you were comin' back," he forced himself to say. "I was afraid that maybe you decided you'd had it with us mice and wanted to give livin' with your father a try."

He wasn't sure if his words would make her angry, or hurt; instead her expression softened, and she reached up to cup his face in her hands. "I already told you," she murmured. "I know where I want to live--and I know where I belong. And that's right here with you. You're all that matters to me--not what anyone else says or does."

Smiling, she tenderly smoothed her hand over the back of his head. "I promised you just last night, didn't I? I'm never going to leave you. Not for anything."

His heart aching--this time with love--Modo took hold of both her hands and kissed them, then rested his cheek against her fingers as he gazed at her adoringly. But when his eye drifted lower and rested on her belt, he furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "But what about where you disappeared to today? And what's up with..."

He let go of her hands and gestured vaguely at the explosives; Ashlin glanced down with an awkward chuckle. "Oh, right. I only meant to step out for a second--I swear."

Her eyes met his again, her loving smile apologetic. "I was going to head right back in and make you breakfast before you woke up. But my father told me when I saw him last night that he and the others were moving on, so...I ran out before sunrise to say goodbye."

She glanced down at her belt again, tugging at one side to adjust the bulky weight of it. "While I was out there I overheard my father talking to Poi--one of the other rats about this place. They spotted another group of rats uncovering it and knew it would only lead to trouble, and...well, my father has a lot of pull, but some of the others don't completely trust me on account of me being half mouse and all. So me blowing this place sky high has sort of become my initiation."

The thought made Modo frown. "Don't think your father should've suggested you take on somethin' this dangerous," he muttered.

Ashlin's smile was soft and shy. "He didn't. He wasn't even going to mention it to me, but...I butt in on the conversation and volunteered."

"To prove yourself to the others?" Modo wondered with another frown.

She shook her head. "I'm not doing this for them. Or for my father. I only have one reason for wanting to do this, because the thing is, I never forgot a story a certain someone told me, and...I was kind of hoping to spare him from reliving the memories."

She didn't say any more, but she didn't need to. He saw the way her eyes shifted briefly to his right arm before returning to his face, and that one short glance explained it all, even if she hadn't said a word. With a throbbing in his heart and tears flooding his eye, he pulled her into his arms so fast and hard she let out a little yelp as her feet left the floor.

"Ash, my sweet darlin'," he whispered as he pressed his face into her hair, "I love you so much--so very much."

Relaxing in his arms, Ashlin smiled as she laced her fingers behind his neck and lifted her face to brush her nose against his. "I love you back," she whispered in return.

Modo cupped the back of her head in his hand and kissed her long and hard before gently setting her to her feet again. Straightening her jacket, he said, "Let's get you home."

Brow furrowing suddenly, Ashlin glanced behind him at the open doorway. "Aren't Tam and Throttle here?"

"Somewhere. They're together, so I'm sure they're fine."

Instead of nodding and heading outside, Ashlin looked down at her belt. "I should do what I came here to do before we leave," she noted firmly. "From what you just told me about what came out of this place, it's better off blown up."

Modo thought about the deadly weapons the rats had stolen and had to agree. "All right," he said. "But we should go find the two of them first. And let's take this thing off you, okay? It's makin' me nervous."

"Good idea," said Ashlin as he started unfastening her belt carefully. "They can help us place the charges, and then--"

She never finished. Because that was when they heard the scream, and then everything they were saying and doing in that moment was wiped from their minds.

Modo had never heard anything like it in his life--and when it was over he prayed he never heard anything like it again. It was the kind of sound that made every hair on his body stand on end and chilled him clear to the bone, until he felt like Death itself had brushed a hand down his back. It was like the worst forms of suffering had come together and formed a single voice, and he heard it echoing in his ears long after it stopped.

He continued to feel chilled in the silence that followed, and with a shiver he knew that that scream was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. Ashlin looked as frozen as he felt, her eyes wide as she pressed a hand to her throat. "That sounded like Tamerin," she said, her voice a breathless whisper--like she was scared to speak up.

Modo knew how she felt; he had to clear his throat to get his voice to stop sticking. "How could you tell?"

The scream had sounded female, but...it could have been anyone. He didn't want to picture what could have happened to Tamerin-ma'am--or whoever--to make her release a sound like that. He didn't think he _could_ picture it.

Ashlin gave her head a shake, her eyes staring right through him. "That was her," she said firmly, her voice growing a little louder. "We have to find her."

Modo nodded mechanically. "Right. We should..."

He didn't know where to start looking, but Ashlin was already jumping into action. Pulling her personal data pad out of her pocket, she punched something into the keypad, then studied the screen for a moment. "She's right through there," she reported, pointing.

They rushed in the direction of the signal together, clinging tightly to each other's hand. Modo was all but blind to the rooms they passed through; the lab wasn't important right now. As the two of them hurried deeper, he only hoped that Throttle was already on the scene, rescuing his beloved mate from whatever horror made her make that hideous sound.

The interior of the lab was messy and confused, but Ashlin guided their steps easily, until she suddenly pulled to a stop in a long hallway. "There," she murmured, indicating to a doorway on the right.

It was every bit as silent here as it was everywhere else, and inside the room the signal was coming from a light was flashing in an extremely annoying way. Modo squinted as he looked inside; he thought he could see something--something on the floor--but he couldn't tell from here.

Before he could stop her, Ashlin had rushed past him, and as he hurried in after her he heard a clicking sound. The light went off completely, leaving them in complete darkness. "Any ideas?" Modo asked dryly. "I didn't bring any spare headlights with me."

"Hold on," Ashlin told him from across the room.

For the next minute or two he listened to a faint scraping, clinking sound, followed by a hollow clunk. A second later the light came back on--and stayed on. Looking satisfied, Ashlin turned away from the panel in the wall she'd just closed--and gasped sharply.

Modo followed her gaze--and felt his heart drop inside him. On the floor a few feet away from him was Throttle, lying on his back with his head turned to one side and his eyes closed, his specs absent. Tamerin was kneeling at his side, hunched over so her face was pressed to his chest.

Ashlin was already hurrying forward and was on her knees beside them before Modo caught up. As he knelt down next to her she struggled to pull Tamerin-ma'am up so she could look at her--struggled because her white fingers were clutching the fur of Throttle's chest so tightly, they ended up ripping whole clumps out by the time Ashlin managed to lift her by her shoulders.

She let out a sound of surprise as the sizable Imeeran slumped back against her, her neck and limbs dangling like a doll's. Her head sagged and landed on Ashlin's shoulder; the sight of her face as her hair spilled back gave Modo a chill. Her skin looked oddly dull, and there were dark rings under her closed eyes. Her normally white lips had turned ashy.

He expected Ashlin to start frantically checking if she was all right--but instead her attention turned to Throttle. The tan mouse looked fine to him--just unconscious--but Ashlin let her unofficially adopted mother slump forward again as she reached over to press her fingers to the side of Throttle's neck.

Her throat worked for a moment as she sat back on her heels and fumbled to pull off Tamerin-ma'am's wrist communicator. The next thing he knew, she was ordering someone on Malteria to prepare the transporter.

She hopped to her feet the instant she cut the connection. "Help me get them outside," she told him, voice trembling. "Help me get them outside _now_."

Modo didn't fully understand what was happening here, but the look of fear in her eyes was more than enough to get him moving. His heart pounded as he hoisted the two of them, one over each shoulder. As he and Ashlin rushed for the exit he couldn't help noticing that while he could hear Tamerin breathing shallowly, Throttle felt strangely still. Modo couldn't hear his breath, or feel the thump of his heartbeat.

But that was because he'd tossed his bro over his right shoulder instead of his left. That's what he was going to believe until someone told him otherwise.

The next few minutes were a jumbled mess. After getting outside they had to protect the two of them--and themselves--from Malteria's poisonous air before they could safely teleport over there. Then they had to rush down to the underwater city, where a team of medics were already waiting to whisk the immobile pair away to the hospital. Before Modo knew it, he and Ashlin were sitting down the hall from the room the two of them had been taken to, anxiously awaiting the report.

It was almost an hour before someone came to tell them that it was going to be a while yet before they would know anything for sure. They were both determined not to move from their posts until they heard something, but after another hour or so they decided to get up and briefly teleport back to Mars--just long enough to bring Michio back here with them.

Explaining to the young boy what was going on was hard, because they still weren't sure themselves. Michio asked a bunch of questions they couldn't really answer, then paced in agitation for a while before finally settling down and crawling into Ashlin's lap; she held him tightly and stroked his teardrop-shaped ears as she gazed sightlessly at the far wall.

Finally, after another long hour of waiting, little Doctor Deichan approached them wearing a crisp white uniform and a tired look on her pretty face. Modo got up, while Michio leaped to his feet. Ashlin remained seated, looking pensively down at her hands.

As Deichan-ma'm looked the three of them over for a moment, Modo thought the tiny Imeeran looked like she had just gotten back from a battle. She was more than tired; she was exhausted, and her shoulders sagged as she spoke. "You were right when you told us you suspected one of them might have been shot with some kind of toxin," Deichan began, her voice slightly scratchy. "We found it in Throttle's bloodstream--I'd never seen something so potent in my life."

"But he's okay," Modo said anxiously. "Ain't he?"

Deichan's nacre eyes studied him before she answered, looking more tired than ever. "His whole system was ravaged. We had to replace a number of his vital organs, but..."

She pulled in a breath and let it out slowly. "We were able to revive him. For now he needs to rest, but he'll recover."

Modo felt such a flood of relief it left him shaken, and he blinked back tears for a moment. "And Tamerin-ma'am?"

Deichan-ma'am hesitated, her gaze shifting to Ashlin. Modo looked over his shoulder at her, still sitting down and worrying the edge of her sleeve, and saw that she didn't look relieved at all. Her eyes were full of pain, and she kept swallowing thickly. Michio was watching Deichan, his face hopeful. "She's okay too, right?" he asked eagerly.

The petite doctor looked away and down at the floor. "Throttle was technically dead when she found him," she said quietly. "And now she's reacting like virtually every other Imeeran who's lost their mate. She's already moved past the first stage of shock; her body is shutting down."

"But he ain't dead," Modo protested.

"No--not anymore," said Deichan. "This is something that's never happened before. When one of our kind is put into a physical state where slipping away into restorative sleep and waking up again later is impossible, there's no way left to save them. There's never been a case of someone's mental bond being severed to the point where it becomes lethal to their mate, only to have the one we thought was dead revive--it's not possible, since only death breaks that connection. And now, it doesn't look like there's any way to signal to her body that he's all right."

So his bro was going to wake up soon only to have to watch his mate slip away until she was gone? That was too horrible to believe. "There must be _somethin'_ you can do..."

Deichan shook her head slowly. Her expression had changed; she wasn't the solemn doctor anymore. She was an ordinary girl heartbroken over the thought of losing her best friend. "There's so much we still don't know about ourselves," she murmured, her eyes bright with tears. "We've tried endlessly in the past to wake someone who's succumbed to the shock of losing their mate. Injection with the serum we developed, external stimulation--everything from loud music to electric shocks...nothing helps."

She blinked rapidly for a moment. "Their body just keeps shutting down, bit by bit, until they're gone."

Michio, who had turned quiet as he listened to all this, suddenly made a sound and turned away. He reached for Ashlin, who quickly gathered him into her arms and hugged him tightly. Modo watched the frightened boy cling to her and felt his heart break. "How long does it usually take?" he asked Deichan-ma'm quietly.

"It's never typical. Some hang on for weeks, even months...while some fade away in a couple of days."

She met Modo's gaze, guessing his next question before he finished opening his mouth. "She won't be with us much longer--her body is shutting down as fast as I've ever seen. You can't make someone live if they don't want to."

Her eyes clouded again as she looked past him at Michio and Ashlin before she turned away. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "There isn't anything I can do."

She fled to her office while Modo sat down again in a daze. Michio continued to cling to Ashlin, his face buried against her throat, but then he suddenly squirmed free and stepped back. He dried his damp eyes. "I want to see them."

Ashlin, whose own eyes were misty, exchanged glances with Modo. "I don't know if..."

Michio looked at her hard, his expression as determined as a ten-year-old's could be. "I want to see them," he repeated, voice firm even as it quavered slightly.

Neither one of them could say no--not when they both knew that it might be the last he saw his adopted mother alive. The three of them headed to a small room at the end of the hall, isolated and away from other patients. A male nurse was monitoring things and didn't say anything as they came inside.

The unconscious pair was lying side by side, in a set of beds placed only a handful of feet apart. They had both been changed into hospital gowns and looked as comfortable as possible against their soft pillows and tucked under their plush blankets. Even from across the room, Modo could see the rise and fall of his bro's chest as he breathed steadily, a sight that left him shaky with relief again.

There was a number of medical wires and tubes connected to Throttle's arms, each of them leading to the monitors beside his bed and to an IV-like stand containing clear fluid. The numbers and graphs on the monitor screens kept careful track of his vital signs, beeping quietly while constantly scrolling information.

Tamerin-ma'am's setup was less complex. She was hooked up to a lone monitor placed near her head; the digital graph fluctuated weakly from time to time.

Modo would swear the white-skinned Imeeran looked worse than she did a few hours ago. Her eyes and temples looked like they had sunken in a little, and the hand that rested on her middle looked frail. The skin underneath her fingernails had darkened to a splotchy purple.

Both he and Ashlin stayed out of the way while Michio suddenly hurried forward, heading over to Throttle's bed first. His dark eyes wide and anxious, he rested his head on his adopted father's arm for a long moment.

As he watched, Modo could have sworn the corners of the mouse's mouth twitched--like he was trying to smile in his sleep.

The nurse suddenly spoke up quietly. "We're letting the anti-toxin we had to flood his system with drain out slowly," he explained, "and after that the anesthesia should wear off. Waking up too fast might be too much of a shock, so we're making sure it happens gradually."

Michio nodded in understanding and straightened up again. Turning around, he moved slowly over to Tamerin's bed. Placing his hand over hers where it lay on her middle, he laid his head on her shoulder as his eyes watched her face. Forcing a smile, he whispered, "You hear that? He'll be okay."

He squeezed her hand tightly. "That means you can wake up. He's all right, so please...wake up, Mom."

Modo couldn't watch anymore. Turning away, he noticed for the first time that Ashlin had moved closer to the door, her back facing the rest of them. She was speaking quietly into Tamerin's wrist communicator, and when she turned around again she brushed a hand over her eyes. "I told her mother and Jayce. And I think Michio should stay here with him and Dee for now."

The gray mouse nodded silently in agreement. As much as he wanted to stick around and see his bro make a full recovery...he realized that this wasn't a place for him right now. He shouldn't be here when the ex-General's family came and saw the state she was in, or when Throttle woke up and had to comfort his frightened son. And he didn't want to see the look on Throttle's face when he was told what was happening to his mate.

Besides...he had his own family to take care of.

After the two of them quietly moved out into the hall, Modo drew Ashlin into his arms and held her close. "Come on," he said softly. "It's time you and I went home. We need to clear your good name."


	22. Chapter 22

It felt like ages before Charley finally calmed down. After Vinnie left the garage he practically had to carry her to his bike, and when he placed her on it he had to prop her in front of him instead of letting her sit behind him like she usually did--she was still crying so hard he wasn't sure if it was safe to let her hold on by herself.

Once they were home he carried her inside and tucked her in bed, where--at last--her sobbing gradually quieted and she fell asleep. And not because of anything _he_ had said or done. No, she had wept so hard and for so long she had reached the point where she was too exhausted to stay awake a second more if she'd wanted to, and the whole time she cried she barely seemed to hear a word he said as he promised her over and over again that it would be all right.

It'd be all right because he was going to make it all right. He'd get their son back--and he'd make the ones who took him pay. Oh, would they pay.

After brushing his wife's hair away from her sweaty, tear-stained face and kissing her cheek, Vinnie hurried out to his bike and took off for the base. He could only hope that Carbine had news for him regarding Vector--but considering the tone of her aide's cryptic message, he kind of doubted it. In fact, he was pretty sure this meeting was going to suck big time.

When he got to the base and heard what the female general had to say, he figured out in a hurry how correct his prediction was. And to think he usually enjoyed being proven right.

"You really called me out here just to tell me this?" he asked when she was finished.

Carbine stayed calm despite his tone, but he could tell by the look in her eyes that she was tired and frustrated, and his attitude was already wearing on her nerves. "I felt the three of you had the right to know, given your past history with the Doctor and his work."

"I didn't mean _that_ , I meant the part about Ash."

"Oh. I know she's grown close to you and the others, Modo in particular, but...I believe that under the circumstances the suspicions placed on her are justified."

Vinnie rolled his eyes. "Blah, blah, blah--bullshit. If she had anything to do with any of this, I'm a hairless weasel."

The General snorted, and not with amusement. "We'll see. In the meantime--"

"In the meantime," Vinnie echoed, cutting her off, "if you'd be so kind as to point me in the right direction, I'll be running along to blow up mad scientist shit with my bros."

Carbine opened her mouth, then closed it again, her forehead lining like she was considering something. "Actually," she said, "I think that with the two of them out there already, the lab is pretty well covered, so I would kind of prefer for you to stick around for the time being."

Vinnie gave her a questioning look. "Why's that?"

His bro's ex hesitated, and during the brief silence Vinnie heard heavy footsteps outside her office. Turning his head, he caught a glimpse of a group of soldiers he didn't recognize hurrying by--armed to the teeth. "We had a group of desert scouts come back a little while after Modo left," Carbine told him as he looked at her again.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say they brought back bad news."

"About as bad as it gets," the General said, her tone grim. "That second attack I said we suspected was on the way? It's almost here. From the look of things, the sand raiders' efforts today have given both them and the rats a huge confidence boost. Every last one of them that's willing to come after us has joined together--they'll be here in a couple of hours. Maybe less."

And as he listened to more footsteps pounding along the halls, Vinnie could already figure out what was happening now. They needed to ready their defenses--something they hadn't needed to do in over two years--and that meant gathering all available troops, sending unarmed civilians to safety, and barricading the entire city.

Instead of getting excited at the idea of having the chance to take shots at a horde of sand raiders, he thought back on situations similar to this, years ago--situations that rarely ended in their favor. It was already a mess out there; if their borders were breached for a second time, things would look even worse. All the hard work they'd put into rebuilding could wind up erased.

This definitely wasn't fun anymore.

"Are they interested in doing more than kidnap a baby mouse this time?" he wondered acidly.

"From what the scouts saw, they plan to do a _lot_ more. Their main goal will probably be to boost their arsenal while grabbing as much food and other provisions as possible."

Vinnie could see it all too clearly. They'd break their way in, take anything they could get their hands on and then retreat, and of course they'd do whatever damage they could in the process. Then they'd rally together, armed better than before and do it again--and again, and again. It was a cycle that could potentially keep going until mice were in as bad of shape as they were a couple of years ago--maybe even worse.

And then he thought of something that sent a feeling like ice running through his veins, chilling him to the core. "Have you gotten any warning messages?" he asked, his voice dropping almost by itself. "Like--" he had to force the words out, "--surrender or the kid gets it?"

Carbine frowned hard. "No, we haven't. But now that you bring that up, it would make sense if they did. But we haven't heard a single word about your son--that's why I sent scouts out into the desert in the first place. They didn't see any sign of a baby mouse anywhere."

The thought of how terrified his tiny son must be right now, how hard he must be crying for his parents, for them to come rescue him from the ugly, cackling faces he was no doubt surrounded by... it almost made Vinnie's knees go weak. He had to press a hand over his eyes for a second as he struggled to keep himself composed. "Maybe they're planning to spring that when they're on our doorstep," he mumbled.

"Maybe," the General agreed soberly. "I'd like to continue looking for him, but...we need to keep every able body we have right here, defending our territory. I think it's obvious to everyone by now that we're not prepared for this. We all got too relaxed, and a lot of our senior members here have gotten a little _too_ senior, while most of our new recruits are awfully young--and completely green. They don't have a minute of field experience."

"They'll get plenty of experience today," Vinnie noted, without humor. "You want me to head up front?"

"Whatever you think you can handle. We need bodies at the wall and plenty on the inside, too, protecting the ones who can't fight."

Vinnie nodded absently, already planning out in his mind what he was going to do--but first he needed to ride home to his Charley-girl and tell her what was going on. If he had her reaction figured right, she'd want to head straight to the outer defenses with him--the most dangerous place to be, but also the best place to vent a little frustration about now. Hopefully his bros would be joining the two of them before much longer.

Thinking about everything that had happened so far today made him close his eyes and shake his head. "Still think you guys are crazy for blaming any of this on Ash," he mumbled. "Could be that her dad's involved, but how do you explain the part about the raiders knowing where our guards would be? There's no way she'd be able to know that, let alone tell anyone else."

"We wonder about that part too. We also wonder about a handful of seemingly unimportant reports from the last few months being mysteriously wiped from our computers."

No doubt 'seemingly unimportant' would turn out to mean 'extremely important,' Vinnie thought dryly as he opened his eyes again. He was just about to ask what kind of reports they were when a mouse bearing a captain's insignia on his uniform stuck his head into the room. "General? The guards are ready for briefing."

Carbine nodded and, bidding a quick goodbye to Vinnie, left the room with the captain. Vinnie headed in the opposite direction, dodging around armed soldiers hurrying out of the base. His mind was focused on getting home and he didn't really pay attention to those around him as he moved through the hallways, but as one group in particular marched past him he paused and watched with a frown.

They were all dressed in full body armor and wearing helmets, so it was hard to tell who was who, but he suddenly felt like he should know the male mouse in the middle of the group. Puzzled, he watched closer, but nothing about the muscular figure struck him as significant...other than how he, like most of those around him, looked stiff and nervous. Probably the first time they were heading into a real battle, Vinnie mused.

The group turned a corner and disappeared from sight, their heavy combat boots clumping against the hard floor. As Vinnie started moving again, he thought he heard a low whistling sound from somewhere. Most likely someone was trying to calm their nerves with a sloppy tune, he thought absently as he reached the exit and left the base.

Leaving the sounds of noisy boots, rustling uniforms and agitated voices behind, Vinnie mounted his bike and raced home.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon by the time Modo and Ashlin transported back to Mars, materializing in the heart of the residential district. As Modo reached over to help her out of her protective suit, Ashlin looked almost as nervous as she did the very first time she'd set foot here. Ignoring the accusing glares of anyone who might be watching, he put his arms around her and held her close, and didn't let go until he felt good and ready to.

Only when they moved apart and he took a glance around, he realized that no one was looking--no one at all. The whole area was deserted, the streets empty except for the remainder of the mess from this morning. What was left appeared to have been abandoned abruptly; bags full of junk ready to be disposed of were lying on the ground, the brooms and rakes used to sweep them up scattered around them.

With a frown and a growing sense of dread, Modo continued to scan the area and realized that homes and businesses were sealed up tight, and many of them were barricaded. There wasn't a regular citizen in sight, though in the distance he could hear the distinct bark of military voices, doling out orders.

Beside him, Ashlin was looking around fearfully, one fist clutched to her chest. His gaze softening, Modo reached over and nudged her over-sized jacket off her shoulders. "Makes you look kinda shifty," he noted as he left the jacket with their suits.

Underneath, all she was wearing was a cream-colored tank top, leaving her arms and shoulders bare. The sight of her fur, so soft and thick, made him feel nothing but warm affection...a sentiment he knew their neighbors wouldn't share. But he could tell by the look in her gentle eyes as he took her hand and hurried through the empty streets with her, Ashlin had forgotten all about the suspicion she was under. Right now, her only worry was finding out what was going on around here.

Modo's first thought was to head to his mama's and make sure she and Ako were okay, but before they got that far, they came across a group of soldiers sealing up another building. Overseeing their efforts was a familiar figure, who looked over her shoulder and spotted them as they neared. Arms folded, she moved away from the others and approached them.

"We haven't been formally introduced," Carbine noted, "but you must be Ashlin."

Modo expected the small Martian to all but shrink against his side, and he was already reaching out to place a protective arm around her--but Ashlin surprised them both by stepping forward and saying, in as strong of a voice as he had ever heard her use, "I didn't have anything to do with any of this. And I don't believe my father is involved, either."

Surprise registered briefly on the General's face before she grew solemn again. "I've heard a lot about you," she stated, her tone neutral. "I don't believe many of the locals have been very kind to you since you came here."

"And so you think I'd deliberately do something like pass along information and supplies as a form of revenge?" Ashlin asked bluntly.

Again, Carbine looked surprised that she was being so direct, but she didn't deny it. Ashlin's expression softened a little as she glanced at Modo before speaking again. "I'd die before I'd be a part of something like what happened here today, because it hurts the ones I love the most. And I wouldn't do it to hurt anyone else, either--no matter how badly they may have hurt me."

Carbine studied her hard for a long moment, but when she spoke again, it wasn't to contradict her or to ask more questions. Instead, she gave them a brief rundown of the current situation.

Modo was stunned. "How long do we have?"

"An hour at the very most. Which isn't close to enough time to guard the ones who can't fight, arm the ones who can, and seal up the outside wall, but it's all the time we've got."

As she spoke, she turned and started walking back to the barricade construction. "The three of us will talk more later," she called over her shoulder. "If you're looking for Vinnie, he's over at the east wall."

That was a pretty fair distance from where they stood, and unfortunately they had to walk there, since Modo's bike was still parked outside the lab. So was Throttle's, come to think of it--and Tamerin's, he reminded himself with a sinking heart. First chance they got, he and Ash would have to go back and pick them up.

Heading to the fringes of mouse territory took time, because they had to dodge around large groups of armed soldiers and clusters of citizens rushing for cover along the way. When they reached the outer wall--a wall that just this morning wasn't anywhere in sight--they hunted for Vinnie for several minutes before they finally found him with a handful of guards, discussing something by the section of wall they had just sealed in place.

Hovering close to the white mouse was Charley-ma'am, who looked dry-eyed and determined, to Modo's relief. The pair noticed him and Ashlin and came hurrying over. "Glad you could join us," Vinnie said as the four of them met up. "How'd it go at the lab?"

Modo hesitated a second before deciding to go into greater detail later; for now he merely explained vaguely that Throttle had taken a hit while he was out there and would be resting over on Malteria for the time being. Vinnie looked disappointed that the three of them wouldn't be together for this, but he quickly went back to work.

Extending to Modo's left and right for as far as he could see and standing several feet above his head was a reinforced metal-and-alloy wall nearly three feet thick. Back during the war, it had encircled their territory at all times, but these days, thanks to a mechanism that allowed large portions of it to be lowered until the top edge was flush with the ground, sections as long as a mile or two had been opened up, allowing the bike-riding locals to take joyrides out into the desert easily.

Relaxing their defenses had been a slow process, but lately, especially in the last few months, far more of the wall had been lowered than raised, with border patrol pacing diligently back and forth in the spaces between. And now, Vinnie explained to them, every last section had been raised and were being sealed and barricaded both inside and out, excluding a handful of key sections that would have to remain movable--so soldiers and ammunition could head out and wounded could be brought in.

Naturally, these sections would be heavily guarded. Looking at the clumps of guards standing around, Modo found himself wondering where Rimfire was right now.

"I saw him just a little while ago," Vinnie said when Modo mentioned this out loud. "He was making sure your mama and four-footed baby boy were okay. Not sure where he went after that, but I assume he's laying low."

Modo nodded absently as he felt a quiet swell of pride. That was his nephew; always taking care of those around him. He would definitely have to go see how he was doing later, but for now, he and Ashlin pitched in to help the others secure the eastern section of wall. They hadn't been at it for very long when a shout rang out in the distance, followed by a scrambling of bodies as part of the wall was lowered long enough to let in a group of scouts.

Some were on bikes, others were on foot, and they stopped to pant and wipe their sweaty faces before saying that their enemy was fast approaching. They'd be at the wall in a matter of minutes.

"From which side?" someone asked.

"All of them, I think."

"Swell. Go alert the General. Everyone else, get ready."

Heart quickening, Modo turned to Ashlin and laid his hands on her shoulders. "You go get to safety, darlin'," he told her, gentle but stern. "Now."

Hesitation flickered through her dark eyes, but she didn't protest. She stretched to kiss him and whispered 'I love you' before turning and hurrying away. Modo watched her until she was out of sight, noting that everyone was so distracted right now, no one dodged out of her path like they usually did, or even glanced her way as she darted by.

As he was turning his attention back to the others, Modo heard a rumbling in the distance--the deep, pulsating rumble of dozens upon dozens of engines, from vehicles big and small, all riding together at high speeds. In seconds, it seemed like the sound was all around him, making his ears ring.

Dozens of figures rushed by, racing into position. Beside him, both Vinnie and Charley-ma'am were readying their weapons. Vinnie's eyes were steely. "Ready, bro?"

Teeth set, Modo prepped his arm cannon. "And how."

* * *

Waking up felt weird. He didn't remember anything--not how he'd fallen asleep, or how he'd gotten into a crisp white room, or where he had been before. It was like going someplace he knew he shouldn't be and coming back from it all at once, with no memory of where he had been and only one thought in his head: something was wrong. Something only he could fix.

Short of breath and heart racing, he sat up in a rush, even though moving so fast sent spikes of pain through his head and spots flaring across his vision. He tried to get up, but when his feet touched the floor his legs buckled like they were boneless and he fell, the impact rattling his teeth. A tugging on his arms caught his attention and he looked to see rows of wires and tubes attached to them. He felt a pricking sensation like needles under his skin where they were connected as they pulled tight from his fall, and nearby monitors pinged and beeped with shrill, scolding alarm sounds.

Footsteps ran up, and then someone he didn't recognize was bending over him. Throttle knew he had to be an Imeeran from the robin's egg blue of his skin, and how the muscles in his arms barely showed any sign of effort as he picked him up off the floor and laid him down again.

Turning his head, the Imeeran called over his shoulder. "Doc?"

Throttle wasn't sure what happened after that, because everything started swimming sickeningly in front of his eyes, forcing him to squeeze them shut. When he opened them again, he got the sense that time had passed, though it felt like he had only closed his eyes for a second. He felt a little better than he did before. Calmer, more lucid, enough for him to look at his surroundings and figure out that he was in the hospital on Malteria.

Someone he knew was leaning over the bed he was lying in, holding an empty syringe in her hand and frowning at him. "You need to take it easy," Deichan told him, her voice firm and full of worry.

Her eyes didn't leave him as she capped the syringe and set it aside. "To say that you've been through a big ordeal would be a vast understatement. You shouldn't be moving around just yet."

Throttle didn't know what she was talking about, and he wasn't interested in finding out. There was something he needed to do, something that had to do with...

It finally came to him, and Deichan let out a sound of surprise as he bolted up; his stomach lurched in response. The male nurse from before came hurrying over, looking ready to pin him to the bed if he had to.

Throttle ignored him as he struggled to swing his feet to the floor. "Where's Tamerin?" he demanded.

Deichan put a hand on his arm--and her grip was a lot stronger than he would have thought. Still, he was pretty sure she was one Imeeran who couldn't out-muscle him. "You need to keep calm," she told him softly, urgently. "You were badly poisoned, and while all of it is out of your system now, you're going to hurt yourself if you try to do too much, too soon."

Her words triggered a flash of memory; the lab, exchanging fire with a rat...

After that everything turned foggy, but he remembered Carbine telling him something about a toxic weapon before he left the base. He quickly surmised that he had been shot with it, but someone must have found him and brought him here, where they were able to fix him up before he kicked completely.

That someone had probably been Tamerin, and with renewed determination--and an urgency he couldn't quite explain--he placed his bare feet on the floor. His legs almost groaned audibly as he put his weight on them, but this time they held. "Where is she?" he asked again, softer this time.

Throttle could sense her--barely. The touch of her mind was like a tickling sensation at the very edges of their bond, as if she was in range by a hair. "Is she somewhere in the hospital?"

Deichan didn't answer except to gaze at him for a long moment, her eyes tired--and sad. Slowly, she let go of his arm and took a step back. Like she was moving away so he could see something, he realized.

He hadn't noticed before, but as he looked past the tiny doctor he saw that there was another bed mere feet from his own. A bed his mate was lying in.

At first all he could do was stare, silent and confused. Being this close, her presence should have been sharp and clear to him. It looked like she was asleep, but he'd lain beside her while she slept more than enough times to know that this wasn't how she was supposed to feel right now.

It made no sense to him, and his confusion must have shown on his face as his mind struggled to come up with a reason for it, because Deichan said, very softly, "You were dead."

Throttle stared at her. "What?"

"The toxin," she explained, though the look on her face said she was afraid that telling him might be too much for him right now. "It looked like it killed you almost instantly. We were able to revive you after Ashlin and Modo brought you here, but you were clinically dead for well over an hour before they found you."

Something clicked in his head. He knew now what must have happened--who must have found him before the two of them did. What must have happened to her because of it. So far he'd only heard about that physical quirk all Imeerans had; now he would be able to watch it play out right before his eyes.

No. Not so long as he still drew breath.

Deichan said something as he hurried past her, but he didn't pay any attention, either to her or to the aching in his limbs. He noticed distantly that there wasn't any tugging on his arms anymore; the wires had since been removed, though he spotted patches of missing fur where they had been attached as he lifted his hands to frame his mate's face.

Throttle didn't need an Imeeran's empathic abilities or a doctor's expertise to figure out that she was in bad shape. There were dark shadows under her eyes, her closed lids a sickly purple, like they were bruised. She felt funny to the touch, too; not cold, but definitely not warm, either.

He didn't care. With his feelings for her burning in his heart until it hurt, he bent to press a kiss to her ashy lips, then touched his antennas to her forehead. He let everything he was feeling flood into her--his love, his worry, his need for her--and didn't move. He felt dizzy to the point where he was nauseated and pins and needles were running up and down his legs, but nothing was going to make him move right now.

"Come back to me," he whispered faintly. "I'm okay--I'm right here. You have to come back to me."

Time felt like it stood still after that. There was no hospital, no one else here in the room with them. It was just him and the one he loved as he desperately tried to call her back from wherever she had gone.

Maybe he stood there for just a few minutes, or maybe it was a few hours. He wasn't sure, and he wasn't really sure what had happened when he suddenly blinked his eyes open and found himself lying in bed again. Someone was sitting on the edge of it, just next to his left arm, and she put a firm hand on his chest when he tried to sit up. "Easy," she told him. "You passed out, so we had to carry you back to bed."

Throttle debated only a second or two before deciding not to try and muscle his way up. Because it was Tamerin's mother sitting next to him, her amber eyes solemn as she pulled her hand away--apparently satisfied that he wasn't going to try to get up--and sat back a little.

Being this close to Bevra made him feel a little funny--like he wasn't sure quite how to act but knew he should behave. In the months since he and Tam had become mates, he was pretty sure he and the fiery-haired Imeeran hadn't spoken three whole sentences to each other. She had been much too busy setting up house with Rimfire to really pay attention to anyone else, but Tamerin had told him about the afternoon she'd spent with her mother a little while back.

He had to admit, he'd had his doubts at the idea that the glacier with legs was brimming over with love for her children, but now that she was sitting so close to him, he could almost feel how part of the barrier she always kept around herself had softened a little. There was a distinct air of motherly concern around her--concern for him, he realized.

In a way, she was his mother now too. They were family--all of them. Rimfire, who was standing near the foot of his bed, wearing his sling and a jacket draped over his shoulders. And Jayce, off by himself on the other side of the room, leaning back against a wall with his arms folded. His garnet eyes, which were glued to his sister, looked hard and tight--like he was fighting off tears.

Throttle felt a sinking in his stomach as he realized why they were all here--what they were all preparing themselves for. In his mind, that wasn't even a possibility.

"I'm alive," he said, not caring how odd this sounded blurted out like that. "There has to be something I can do."

For a moment Bevra looked at him silently. Then, her voice unusually soft, she said, "There is. You can survive. Not being able to feel her will probably take a while to get used to, but you're not like us. Losing that connection won't hurt you. Not physically."

She paused, eyes studying him. When it dawned on him what she was saying, Throttle sat up with a look of disgust. She was telling him to let her go. To get ready to move on and live his life without her, even as she still breathed.

Bevra opened her mouth to say more, but Throttle cut her off. "I am _not_ giving up on her."

"You don't have a whole lot of choice at this point," the former general noted quietly.

"I'm not giving her up!"

He started to get out of bed, but Bevra placed a hand on his shoulder. Her toned arm was like a steel rod holding him in place, and he knew he wouldn't have been able to move even if he had all his strength. "It's okay to get angry," she told him. "It's okay for you to grieve. But no matter what you're feeling right now, don't go forgetting one important thing."

Throttle glared darkly at her. "What thing?"

Bevra pulled her hand away and stood. "Michio is here, too. He's waiting for you to wake up--and he already knows that she won't. Your son needs you right now."

She gave him that hard look of a woman used to being obeyed. "Don't forget that."

Behind her, Jayce suddenly let out a weird noise. Almost like he was trying not to throw up in his mouth. Throttle eyed him as he got out of bed; he had to grab onto the side of it to keep his balance as his legs wobbled. "You okay there, bro?"

Jayce's eyes flashed as he pushed away from the wall. "Don't you 'bro' me," he snapped. "I could have told you the day you two got together that this was going to happen."

Throttle gave him a funny look, while Bevra turned to her son with a weary sigh. "Jayce..."

The dark-skinned Imeeran ignored her, his eyes boring into Throttle. "We're not meant to be with a species with an expiration date," he went on heatedly. "We never die on our own; in the time between when we first learned how to survive here and the shape-shifters started attacking us, there were virtually no deaths. Someone like you can die from anything from disease to hitting your head too hard. We're not designed for mating with something so-- _weak_."

"Enough," his mother barked.

Oh yeah. It was enough all right. Throttle had figured out what Jayce was saying. He himself hadn't bothered to even think about who was to blame for all this, because he already knew where that blame lie; on the one who shot him, and maybe the nut-job who designed the toxic weapon in the first place.

Jayce had come to a different conclusion. Jayce was blaming _him_.

Throttle was too tired to feel anything but frustrated at the idea that the hot-tempered male had gone back to thinking he was unfit for his sister, just like he was too tired to come up with any kind of retort. But Jayce was done with him, his venomous gaze shifting to his mother.

"And you," he spat, "you're a real piece of work, you know that? You're the last person in the universe who should be telling someone not to forget that their son needs them."

His words were angry--furious--but his eyes were full of pain. A flicker of surprise registered on Bevra's face, followed by a hint of sadness. She started to reach a hand out, but her son recoiled like her fingers were hot pokers and stormed out of the room.

Her expression sober, Bevra glanced at Rimfire, who had been squirming in awkward silence this whole time, before turning back to Throttle. "Sorry about that," she said.

With a quiet scoff, Throttle looked away from her and over at his mate. He might almost have been glad that she'd slept through all that, peaceful and oblivious--if he didn't know that her life was steadily slipping away with each passing second. As he went over and placed his hand over hers, he said, "Not as sorry as I am. Not anywhere as sorry as I am."


	23. Chapter 23

_Silence in this lonely room_  
_The hours feel like days_  
_Silence when I speak to you_  
_Your thoughts seem miles away_  
~Stay Forever;  Delain

"Did I mention that this isn't fun anymore?"

Grunting, Modo wiped sweat off his face and didn't answer. Not that he had to. He knew as well as Vinnie that they were in a bad way. Carbine had said that a lot of the soldiers out there were completely green, and it showed. Not only that, most of the ones with experience were showing glaring signs of having grown a little rusty. Which made Vinnie more than a little glad that he and his bros goofed around and got into trouble outside home borders as much as they did.

There were plenty who did the same--and plenty more who spent as much time at home with their growing families as they could while only clocking in the minimum amount of training possible. It was the perfect time for someone to strike, he thought darkly as he huddled next to Modo behind one of the reinforced barricades set just outside the main wall. And they knew. Those bastards _knew_ the relaxed state of their army, all the places they were guarding the heaviest--which meant they probably knew where the unarmed and defenseless were too and had to be dying to break in and get to them.

Over a heavy barrage of gunfire he heard Carbine yelling that if she ever figured out who the leak was, she was stringing them up by their genitals--and that was before an explosion drowned out the rest of what she said.

When the first wave hit--mostly sand raiders--Vinnie had opted to ride with the other soldiers heading out on wheels, taking out whoever they could while hopefully drawing some of the firepower away. It didn't work; anyone on the outside of the wall were all but ignored other than being dodged around or fired at as they went by. Their enemy wasn't going to tolerate any distractions, so the mice took on a more direct approach--to little effect.

There were so many of them--as many sand raiders or rats as Vinnie had ever seen at one time on their own, let alone both races together--and the weapons and armor they wielded were in perfect shape...mostly. He could hear the sounds of laser rifles ready to fall apart echoing out there, fired right alongside blasters that sounded brand new. Grenades and other explosives many times more powerful than what they used this morning were tossed out with ones that barely made a pop. Sure kept you on your toes.

He kind of wished he still had his bike, but after only a few minutes on the battlefield, Charley--who naturally had been riding with him--had taken a hit to her leg. Vinnie had immediately hopped off and ordered his bike to take his wife to safety, even though Charley had _not_ wanted to leave the fight. The medics who met her at the wall practically had to drag her inside.

It felt funny being without them--the two number one girls in his life--but at least Modo was still around. After taking a breath and letting it out slowly, Vinnie lifted his blaster. "Ready for more?"

Modo nodded wordlessly, and together they twisted around and started aiming over the barricade--just as Carbine hollered for everyone to get back.

At first Vinnie didn't see or understand why. Sure, it looked like the second wave--a group of rats on bikes--had showed up, but it wasn't anything they couldn't handle. Or so he thought until he saw one of them, grinning the whole time, firing a single shot at a lieutenant up near the front before roaring on.

Vinnie didn't hear a sound, but the mouse recoiled in pain, wobbled for a second, then fell like a rock. He didn't get up again.

"Everyone, _back_ ," Carbine bellowed. "Get back behind the wall!"

All the way back inside? That didn't seem like a good move to make--it sounded like a retreat--but it looked like that was exactly what they were doing. Vinnie was watching everything in a daze; he hadn't forgotten Carbine telling him about the toxic weapon the rats had stolen from the lab, but part of him didn't think it was as bad as she had described.

But it was exactly like she'd described. Mice he didn't recognize--and some he'd known for years--were dropping all around him. One tiny hit and they went flat. And the more the bodies mounted, the more bold their enemy grew, with the sand raiders pulling closer and the rats not bothering to retreat very far anymore as they continued to fire.

He probably would have continued staring in mute horror, but suddenly a hand grabbed onto his shoulder and the next thing he knew Modo was dragging him across the battlefield and back inside the city. As the section of wall rose in front of his eyes, he caught one last glimpse of the bodies scattered across the ground.

"We can't just leave them like that," he heard himself say.

Modo let go of him. As Vinnie turned around, he saw Carbine tossing away her burned-out blaster and grabbing a new one. "They're dead," she said dully. "We'll go back for them after this is over."

There was an edge in her voice that said plenty more after she fell silent again. They'd go back for them if they could. They'd go if there was anything left to bring them back to.

It felt too insane to be real, but it was obvious that the ones attacking were taking an all or nothing approach. They didn't plan to bombard them for a couple of hours and then come back later; they were going to beat down their defenses until they were inside and then take and do whatever the hell they wanted. Why not, when they could kill anyone who got in their way so easily?

As he took a look around, looked at how the other units fighting on the outside were heading in to safety, same as them, it was clear that they were only stalling now. Medics and reserve units ran through the streets, heading to the ones who had just retreated inside. So far as he could see, there was next to no one still outside.

And then he saw something that made him pause with a frown. A unmistakable slender, feminine figure darting by in the distance, thick tail trailing behind her.

Vinnie distinctly heard Modo telling Ashlin to head for cover, and yet there she was, dodging past the mice rushing around her while carrying a small black case. Modo would probably have a fit if he saw her running around out here, but when he looked the gray mouse wasn't standing next to him anymore.

Modo was hurrying to help the others secure another barricade a few feet from the main wall, while their outside defenses were hammered with laser-fire and explosives. For a minute Vinnie didn't get why they were building a second defense...but then he heard the distinct, sharp crack of a grenade launcher being fired. A second later there was a dull thump as a jumbo-sized grenade landed squarely on their side of the wall.

Well, this day just kept getting better and better.

* * *

Throttle let out a roar as he hurled a lunch tray at the nearest wall. Not that throwing a tantrum changed anything. Sending food flying and leaving a dent in the wall didn't make his dying mate open her eyes and sit up. But it made him feel better. Just a little bit.

So he started throwing anything else he could get his hands on, and if he couldn't pick it up he pushed it over. He pushed and kicked and ripped things off the walls, though he made sure to stay on one side of the room, away from Tamerin's bed. Not that it mattered. He could push her onto the floor, rip the cords out of her monitor and drop it on her, and she wouldn't so much as twitch.

He had no idea how long he'd been in here with her, trying every last thing he could think of; nothing worked. Not loving whispers in her ear. Not frantic shouting. Not clutching her head and flooding her mind with emotion and images from his memories--all the precious things they had shared together. Not sitting her up and shaking her. Not prying her eyelids open.

That last one had been a mistake. He had been expecting her eyes to be rolled back into her head so only white showed, but instead he found them staring straight back at him--sightlessly. Only they weren't the eyes of the one he loved anymore. Their surface had turned glassy, like a doll's, and the beautiful blue of her irises was fading, turning transparent, with milky white showing through.

Throttle had lost it after that, and the next thing he knew he was whirling away and throwing the closest object. And he kept on throwing everything he could, and breaking whatever he could break, until his legs suddenly went weak and he found himself sitting on the floor, shaking uncontrollably and panting for breath as he choked back sobs.

He was still sitting there when the same nurse from before came back into the room. Irritatingly calm and crisp in his white uniform, he took a look around at the mess before resting his eyes on the food still dripping down the wall. "Menu not to your liking?" he wondered.

Throttle shot him the darkest look his weary self would allow. "You think this is funny?" he snapped.

The nurse knelt down and started cleaning up the floor. "No. I think it's tragic for anyone to lose their mate under any circumstances, let alone these."

"Well, your bedside manner still sucks."

"That's appropriate," the nurse said mildly. "You're kind of being a sucky patient."

Fortunately for both of them, he left a few minutes later, and wisely didn't send in a janitor or repairman right away. After he was gone Throttle looked over at Tamerin, though of course there was no change.

No...no, there _was_ a change.

It must have happened during his rampage so he didn't notice it at first, but now he realized that he wasn't feeling that tickling sensation. That faint, teasing hint of his mate's mind that was all that was left of their bond was gone. He couldn't sense her anymore.

His feet turned numb as he pulled himself up and stumbled across the room, where he slumped against Tamerin's bed and, shaking, took both of her hands in his. They felt the same as before--not warm and not cold--and the graph on the monitor beside her head fluttered slightly. Pressing his ear to her breastbone, he could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, hear the slow, weak thump of her heart.

She was alive, but her body was fading too fast to maintain their bond any longer. And Bevra was wrong; losing that connection _did_ hurt. It made him feel empty inside, chilled him with a cold that stung him to the bone. Even if he couldn't outright hear her thoughts, being without the touch of her mind made his own mind feel achingly silent. Like he'd had the same gentle tune humming in his ears for six months only to suddenly have it turned off.

He felt more than empty--he felt incomplete. His body knew that it had lost something it was always supposed to have, something that was always supposed to belong to him, and it hurt him just as bad physically as it did emotionally--hurt him until it felt like he was being cut in two.

It was a kind of pain that refused to stay inside, though he tried to contain it. Guys like him weren't supposed to lose it. They weren't supposed to break down and cry. But he felt beaten down in both body and spirit, and so, with the head of his virtually lifeless mate cradled in his arms, break down and cry was exactly what he did.

He cried until he didn't have a single tear left, and when he finally dried his eyes and straightened up shakily, he noticed for the first time that he wasn't alone anymore. A crew had come in to clean up the mess he had made, and they were quietly putting things back the way they were. None of them were looking at him, but Deichan, who was standing just a few paces away, was watching him with sympathy and pain written across her face.

Rimfire was hovering a handful of feet behind her, without his sling for a change and wearing the jacket he had draped over his shoulders earlier. He was cradling his bandaged arm with his good one as he stared down at the floor, like he didn't feel comfortable looking at anyone--especially not Throttle--right now. Throttle didn't know why the young mouse was in here without his mate, but he didn't care enough to ask--or care that anyone had witnessed the scene he'd just made. After kissing her forehead, he gently rested Tamerin's head back on the pillow and turned to face her best friend.

"Save her."

Deichan's nacre eyes filled. "I can't," she said, voice cracking.

Throttle shook his head; that wasn't a response he was going to accept. "I don't care what you have to do. I don't care what you need to take from me. _Save her_."

All the doctor would do was close her eyes and shake her head in defeat. But Throttle wasn't going to give up. Not until he'd done every last thing he possibly could short of giving up his own life. He knew he couldn't, even if he was willing to--not when it was so painfully clear that Tamerin wouldn't be able to go on living without him. And not when he had a son, his own blood or not, who was anxiously waiting for him to come say he was okay and take him home.

While this was going through his head, he saw Rimfire out of the corner of his eye, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "From him," he murmured.

Throttle looked at him. "Something on your mind?" he asked.

Rimfire lifted his head, looking almost startled out of his thoughts. "Just thinking out loud," he said. "About the Imeeran bond and what makes it what it is."

Throttle glanced over his shoulder for a second, even though seeing how much his mate had faded cut at his heart. "I've already tried that. Our bond was broken when I, well, died, but..."

They must have reconnected once he was revived, but only to a small extent. Not enough for him to get through to her. "I felt it weakly when I first woke up, but it's gone now."

Admitting this brought a sting to his eyes, but he was done crying. It was time to act.

Swallowing thickly, Deichan stepped past him and laid a hand on her best friend, using her innate abilities to feel her in ways Throttle couldn't. Dee obviously didn't like what she felt, because she pulled her hand away with fresh tears in her eyes.

Rimfire cleared his throat. "Actually, I was thinking about the physical part of it," he said.

Throttle frowned in puzzlement. "What do you mean?"

"You know, how the bond forms in the first place. Through bodily fluid."

"Bodily fluid?" Throttle echoed. "Just what the hell do you expect me to do, have sex with her?"

Rimfire reddened in embarrassment. "No," he mumbled. "I wasn't thinking about _that_ bodily fluid. I was thinking maybe blood might help. Maybe."

Throttle opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, his eyebrows knitting together. "Blood?"

For a minute he didn't understand--but then it dawned on him. Spinning to face Deichan, he said, "Let's try a transfusion."

Filling Tamerin's mind with his thoughts didn't help, but maybe filling her veins with his very essence would.

Deichan's face lined in thought, and she nibbled at the tip of her thumb as she noted, "That's something we've never had to do before."

The brief glimmer of hope lifting his heart faded in a hurry. "You're a doctor who's never done a transfusion?" he asked dryly.

She gave her head a shake. "There's no need--not for us. We heal quickly, conscious or not, and our blood cells regenerate faster than normal when we bleed. As a result, it's all but impossible for us to bleed to death, so...transfusions aren't something we practice."

Throttle slapped a hand over his eyes as a wave of despair washed over him, prompting her to hastily add, "But I know how to do them. We're always studying different forms of medicine used on other planets, and I also wanted to learn every way I could care for the children who became stranded here that I could--just in case."

Throttle lowered his hand again. "You have everything you need to do this?"

She nodded.

"Then do it."

Deichan wasted no time getting started. The others were ushered out of the room (though he noticed she paused to whisper something to Rimfire before shooing him out) and a group of other medics hurried in, bringing equipment and laying out medical tools.

Throttle was swept back into bed, where the inside of his right elbow was shaved bald and a long, clear tube, flexible and coiling, was attached to his skin by a thick needle that pierced deep into his vein. As the other end of the tube was connected to Tamerin in the same way, Deichan started hooking him back up to one of the monitors so she could keep an eye on his vital signs.

"Try not to move around or sit up," Deichan told him, while another doctor worked with an electronic device attached to the tube that now linked him to his mate. "We're going to draw your blood out at a rate quicker than what's normally used for this sort of procedure, so you're probably going to experience severe dizziness and blackouts. She could hang on for days more, but..."

She paused and looked over at her best friend for a moment. Throttle understood. "You don't want to risk wasting time we might not have," he said quietly. "I get it. Do whatever you have to do."

Nodding, Deichan gave the signal to open a valve in the tube. Throttle didn't feel anything at first, though the redness of his blood seemed to flow out of his arm and through the coils of the tube in a wild rush, whizzing from one end to the other, until it was a constant stream. When he saw that stream reach the needle in his mate's arm, he felt something inside him relax in relief.

This had to work. It just had to.

He watched from his bed as the others continued to work around him, monitoring them both closely, checking graphs and readouts and typing things on their data pads. The room went fuzzy from time to time, but he basically felt all right--until the feeling of someone starting to shave the inside of his other arm made him jerk his head up in surprise. The suddenness of it gave him tunnel vision for a few seconds. "What...?"

Deichan's delicate hand rested on his shoulder. "We're playing this completely by ear," she informed him softly. "This is a strange thing to do, since she hasn't lost any blood. We have no idea how her body is going to react to getting more than it needs--or if it will react at all. We've never tried this before so we don't know if her body will even accept your blood. So," she went on, as a second tube was connected to his left arm, "we thought it might help if we make a little extra room in her veins. Of course, that means we'll have to speed things up even more, since losing blood will make her body produce it faster."

Throttle blinked his hazy eyes as another needle was inserted into him. "So...you're doing what, exactly?"

He was getting a floaty kind of feeling, like he was hovering somewhere between awake and asleep. It made it a little hard to follow all this.

"We had already decided that you would need to have all the blood you're losing replenished to avoid any adverse effects. But there aren't any mice around right now except for Rimfire, and when we tested a sample for his type, it didn't match yours. Just as well; it would probably be a bad idea to have someone else's blood in your veins right now."

Throttle blinked again, feeling more and more detached from reality as he watched more blood, bright and red and brilliant, flow up and up the coils of the tube and into his left arm. Like before when he watched his own blood flowing out, he didn't feel any different at first...but then he felt strangely soothed. Like he was being filled with a tonic.

"Whose...?"

He was too sleepy to ask. But even before he turned his suddenly leaden head to look, he already knew, deep down. After all, if someone else's blood couldn't be introduced into this, who else's? While his blood pumped into his mate, flowed into her heart, her blood was going to help keep him going. He pictured it cycling between them, around and around in an infinite loop--or maybe it would stop when he was completely filled with hers, and she with his.

"Is she my type?" he wondered lazily.

He felt so relaxed now. Safe and calm. He even let out a weak chuckle at how this sounded. "Of course she is," he cracked.

Deichan flashed a brief smile. "We don't actually have a blood type. Our blood is universal."

Ah. Naturally. All part of that stretch for perfection. Sometimes when he heard an Imeeran joking about what failures their creators' had considered them to be, he felt like pointing out a race or species was only a true failure if they didn't survive. They had started their own society and thrived here for almost a thousand years; so what if they didn't meet the original, unrealistic expectations. Imeerans were still a success in his book.

His eyelids drooped sleepily, but he only let them close for a minute or two before he opened them again so he could keep watching the tubes. He knew there were far more differences between her blood and his aside from hers being a slightly brighter hue, and he had to wonder, "What's this going to do to me?"

If being intimate with her was enough to create a telepathic link between them that wasn't ordinarily possible for his species, he couldn't even imagine what kind of abilities he was going to end up with once this was over.

"I don't know," Deichan admitted softly. "Nothing like this has ever been done before, so we can't even begin to predict the outcome. No matter what comes from this, we're making history today."

She adjusted the speed of his blood-flow again before giving his hand a squeeze and quietly leaving his bedside. Distorted images of other doctors and nurses moved in front of Throttle's eyes from time to time, and sometimes he saw bits of blackness or spots of color, or sometimes he saw nothing at all. He couldn't be sure of how much time passed, or how many times and he slipped in and out of consciousness. The only thing he could be sure of was how badly he wanted to see some sign of improvement in the one he loved so much.

Sometimes he didn't have enough strength to turn his head to look; other times he almost felt strong enough to get up. He knew Deichan would rather he didn't, but all of a sudden he found himself sitting up in bed, blinking in confusion. He wasn't sure how or why he'd gotten up; maybe he'd been dreaming. The room looked empty now, but he could hear faint voices from somewhere close by. The lights had been turned down low, making it easier on his tired eyes.

Thinking about it made him remember his specs--remember them being kicked across the floor as he lay dying. It made him shake his head absently; they were just things. Unimportant. He'd get new ones later.

All he cared about right now was seeing something different in his mate--something other than her looking even worse. As he looked across the space between them, he would swear that the color in her face had changed--in a good way--but he couldn't be sure of anything in the dimness.

And so, stubborn and determined, he shoved the covers off, put his numb, tingling feet on the floor and shuffled, vision blurring frequently, across the short distance between the two beds. He half-expected a monitor to start beeping, or for the nurse to come in and dump him back in bed, but everything stayed silent. He made sure not to snag the tubes trailing from his arms on anything as he made his way to his mate's side, where he sagged, out of breath, against her bed.

His eyes kept going fuzzy and her face was shadowed, so he couldn't begin to tell if she actually looked better or if it was just his own wishful, desperate thinking. He sure hoped he wasn't imagining that her closed eyelids didn't look quite so purple, or that the hand he fumbled for and gripped tightly was just a little bit warm.

Everything was too foggy for him to be sure. He decided it was probably a good idea for him to leave the status report to the Doc and get back to bed. Turn around, hobble back over there, climb under the covers, and all without stumbling, tripping, falling, or ripping something out that would screw everything up.

On second thought, maybe he'd just stay right here. He felt better being close to her anyway, so with a quiet exhale of breath and an ache of longing in his heart, he let his upper body rest on the be--so he wouldn't fall backwards if he suddenly passed out. Keeping a firm hold on her hand, he nestled his head on the hollow of Tamerin's throat and closed his eyes.

And as he drifted off to sleep, Throttle wondered if the strong, steady thump beneath his ear was real or just part of a dream.

* * *

"This isn't working," Carbine grumbled.

It sure ain't, Modo thought to himself, as he sat on the other side of the makeshift barrier with Vinnie, who was muttering obscenities under his breath. After their initial retreat, a few units tried heading back out to battle their attackers directly. Those who survived the attempt had come running right back in. As long as the rats had that weapon of theirs it was better to keep some distance--and preferably something solid--between them, and those grenades the sand raiders had were nothing to shrug off, either.

Their own wouldn't do much good if they couldn't see where they were throwing them, which they couldn't from here on the ground--but there were towers along the wall, which they made darn sure to put to use. For a little while it looked like they were holding them off that way, but groups of rats, scrawny and sly, smashed themselves directly up against the wall in all the places they couldn't be shot at from that angle--and of course they knew where all those spots were.

While the rats waited for anyone else who might try to come out, the sand raiders edged back a bit and continued launching grenades. They couldn't get close enough to send any over the wall anymore, so they made do and launched them at the wall directly instead. Modo was counting how many hits it would take before they finally blasted a hole through it.

And then they'd _really_ be in trouble. The only thing he could be thankful for right now was that none of them had flight capabilities. Which would certainly be a nice thing for mice to have about now, but they only had a handful of aircraft left, and up until a short time ago only one of them had been operational. Carbine had already told Vinnie thanks by punching him in the gut.

As another explosion rattled the wall, the General blew air through her hair as she peered around the barricade next to the one he and Vinnie were behind. They weren't being fired at directly, but the explosions sent dirt, metal chunks and other debris flying, so it was best to keep themselves protected.

Flimsy structures wouldn't help if their enemy got inside, Modo reminded himself grimly. Another grenade bounced off the wall farther down--and as he turned his head the check how well that section was holding up, his felt his heart jump into his throat. Their enemy _was_ inside.

It happened in one swift, surreal flash of movement, but he knew he had seen a group of figures flipping over the wall and to the ground, silent as shadows. It was like they vanished the instant they landed, and after the last one was over a dark cord was snapped down from the top of the wall, and then it was like nothing had happened at all.

He couldn't have imagined it, but he didn't get a chance to tell anyone. As he was standing and getting ready to yell to the General, he figured out why no one else seemed to have seen what just happened; everyone's attention was diverted. Diverted at Carbine herself, he quickly realized, because she was slapping on her helmet and getting ready to storm back outside.

"I've had enough of this," he heard her holler over roaring engines and more explosions. "Are we going to keep cowering or are we going to go back out there and fight like mice?"

As she spoke, she marched over to the wall, right as another grenade came sailing over--the first in a while--and landed behind her foot. She didn't pay any attention when everyone started shouting at her to look out, because she had already been ignoring them over yelling at her to come back.

Modo didn't have to think twice. He was already tensing to bolt after her and tackle her to safety...hopefully. But someone beat him to it.

Someone who happened to be the tallest, most muscular rat he had ever seen. Only he didn't tackle her, exactly. With a demeanor that was downright casual, he appeared out of nowhere, snagged the General by the back of her uniform and hoisted her up and over his shoulder, while at the same time kicking the pinging grenade before turning and trotting back behind the barricade.

The grenade detonated at least a dozen feet away, sending dirt and rock in their direction, but the sinewy black rat didn't seem to mind as it pelted off his back. With the same casual air as before, he hooked his hands beneath Carbine's underarms--like she was a weightless little doll--and placed her on her feet. He even brushed her sleeve off. Modo couldn't see her face through her helmet's cloudy visor, but he was pretty sure her jaw was dropping. He was pretty sure everyone's was.

The astonishment didn't last long. It only took a second or two to figure out that they were now surrounded by a group of rats--a group of meaty, extremely well-armed rats. Vinnie had gotten to his feet and was aiming at the one-eyed black one warily; the white mouse was ignored as he went to stand beside a rat who stood out from the others, like he was the leader.

Carbine and those closest to her already had him in their sights, looking ready to start mowing him down if he--if any of them--so much as breathed wrong. They might have started firing already, but everyone was still in shock that they had been infiltrated so easily; no one had been expecting it to happen like this. Carbine's comlink suddenly beeped, followed by a puzzled-sounding voice relaying a message about someone catching a glimpse of something coming over the wall.

"I'm well aware," Carbine responded flatly.

Modo took another look at the rat in front, hesitated a second more, then darted over and nudged the General's blaster down. "Wait," he told her.

She lifted her helmet and shot him a look like he was crazy. "For what?"

What indeed, he thought dryly. He sure hoped his gut instincts were on the ball today. "He's Ashlin's father."

The golden-furred rat flashed that same almost-smirk he had the first time Modo saw him. "Pardon our intrusion," said Nitro, as he nonchalantly lifted a hefty blaster in one hand and a couple of palm-sized explosives in the other, "but we thought you guys could use a hand."


	24. Chapter 24

The second the initial shock faded, Carbine wasted no time bombarding Nitro with questions, which the cool and collected rat answered swiftly--like they were volleying lobs back and forth on a tennis court. Behind the General, the wall continued to vibrate unhappily as grenades struck it, and the sky above was rapidly turning dark as the last lingering hint of daylight finally faded and night settled in.

"How do we know you're not actually on their side?" she demanded tersely.

"If we were, you'd be dead already and we wouldn't be wasting time with this conversation," Nitro responded mildly.

"But if you're not with them, how did you get all the way in here without any of them out there noticing?"

"There are already plenty of rats running around out there right now. I think the differences between us and them are pretty obvious, but in the heat of battle, nobody stopped to look."

"If you're really not with them, then how did you know they'd be attacking us today? I'm not dumb--you guys obviously had plenty of time to prepare."

"True. We've been in the area lately and eventually figured out what was going on, and while we normally keep our noses as far out of everyone else's business as possible...we decided that leaving this situation alone might come back to bite us later, so here we are."

"But why?" Carbine pressed. "Why would you help us?"

Modo, who had been listening to this exchange silently, knew the answer to that one. "Because he loves Ashlin as much as I do," he put in quietly.

Both the General and muscular rat paused and looked at him. Nitro studied him a moment before flashing a knowing smile. "You taking care of my little girl?"

The gray mouse's ears turned warm as more eyes turned to look his way. Nitro's smile deepened. "Good."

He turned back to Carbine. "Whether you want our help or not, we're here, so you might as well make the best of it."

As he spoke, one of the other rats tossed a flat, rectangular-shaped object at him; he caught it neatly and slid his long fingers through a small handle connected to one side. "We've already tried that," Carbine said when she realized what he was holding. "That toxin burns through any type of armor we have."

"We know," Nitro said, as he adjusted his hold on the shield. "These will melt eventually, but you'll be able to block with them for a good long while before that happens. Plenty of time to do some damage--you just have to move fast and smart."

Carbine didn't respond as Nitro and his group blithely started passing shields to the bemused mice standing around them. Modo could tell by the look on her face that she knew she should have thought of this, but knowing that any kind of armor only held up for so long, it never occurred to her to bring shields. But the idea of getting back out there and fighting directly again quickly took hold, and in a matter of minutes every mouse standing nearby was armed with a shield, while Carbine sent out an order for someone to bring more from the base's weapon reserves.

"As soon as you see the first sign of a full-blown hole burning through, draw out, and draw out fast," she told everyone who was lining up by the wall, ready to head back out to the battlefield. "Don't anyone take any stupid risks."

Everything was happening in a rush, to the point where no one was stopping to mention the fact that there were rats on the wrong side of the wall--rats who were lining up right alongside them. This fact didn't escape the General.

"You _really_ plan to battle out there with us?" she asked Nitro.

"We wouldn't be here if we didn't. You see, our lives are built around basic, simple truths, and one of them is that we enjoy living," he said, which sparked an exchange of sly grins from some of the others. "But at the same time, none of us are afraid to die."

* * *

Throttle had no idea how long he'd slept, but when he opened his eyes again, he could tell that someone--probably Dee--had been in and out of the room at least once. The lights had been turned up a little brighter, and he could feel something laying across the small of his back. Something flat, like a safety strap, and when he wiggled a little he felt a tug, heard something clank against the bed rail.

Nice to know that someone agreed that he was where he belonged during this, but being secured so he wouldn't fall over wasn't what woke him. He wasn't sure if anything had woken him, specifically. He just knew that right before he opened his eyes he'd gotten the feeling something had changed.

He was still groggy and his head felt too heavy to lift, and whenever he blinked he saw white halos. Keeping still, he listened to the beat of Tamerin's heart, the quiet rush of her breath, as his gaze drifted over her prone form. There wasn't much to see, what with the blanket pulled up to her chest. Just her hand where it still lay on her middle, his fingers clinging as tightly to hers as they had before he fell asleep.

Throttle continued to blink sleepily, his gaze fixed on their clasped hands, the sense that something important was staring him in the face sweeping over him--and then it hit him.

When he first took hold of them, her fingers were limp; now they were curled around his hand, their grip firm and strong.

His own grip tightened automatically as a burst of hope sped up his heart, the quiet beeping of his monitor quickening to match--just as the steady breathing he had been listening to paused. Paused, the chest beneath his cheek expanded with an extra intake of air, and released again, slowly and with a humming sound. That little murmur of contentment Tamerin sometimes made after waking up from a good, solid rest.

Throttle's head swam as he lifted it, but he didn't care. Staying propped against the bed, he leaned over his mate and pushed her hair back from her face with his free hand, silently hoping, pleading. With another sighing murmur, her eyelids flickered before her eyes slowly blinked open, clear and blue. Her lips turned up in a smile. "Well hey, pretty eyes."

There were no words to describe the relief he felt. The sheer joy that flooded through him, washing away all the pain he'd endured the last few hours, until happiness was bubbling up so much inside him it wouldn't be contained, spilling out of him in the form of a laugh. "You're back," was the only thing he could think to say.

Tamerin blinked at him again. Her eyelids still looked dark, her face lined and shadowed with gray, but he didn't think she could look more beautiful. Her eyes were tired but bright, and she wiggled her other hand out from the blanket to cover a small yawn before smiling at him again. "Where was I?"

Throttle laughed again and touched her cheek. "I couldn't even tell you. But I'm so glad you're back."

A frown tugged at her lips, and her eyes shifted from his as her forehead creased in thought. "Wherever I was...I couldn't find you. All I can remember is feeling alone, and empty, and wanting to be near you so badly...but I couldn't find you."

He quickly cupped her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly. "It's okay," he told her softly. "We're together again. Everything's okay now--you can let today go as nothing but a bad dream."

Her memory was still foggy and she didn't really understand what he meant, but she was perfectly content to let him cradle her head in one hand and stroke her cheek with the other as he brushed his nose and lips against hers, just enjoying being with her, feeling how peaceful she was inside. His mind was growing clearer the longer he was awake, and he could plainly feel how she felt now--just the way he was supposed to. Everything was the way it was supposed to be.

With his heart soaring and moisture in his eyes, he took hold of both her hands and kissed them in turn before carefully straightening up and looking across the room at the open doorway. "Doc?" he called. "She's awake."

He didn't know if Deichan was close enough to hear him, but a second or two later she came scurrying into the room, her face alight with joy. Her role as doctor slipped for a minute, and she came over to give her best friend a tight hug before calling in her assistants. "I haven't been fawned over this much since I was a kid," Tamerin noted with a smirk.

She watched sleepily while Throttle was unstrapped from the side of her bed and taken back to his own bed, where Dee decided not to disconnect the transfusion right away--just in case. Instead, she slowed the blood transfer down to a crawl and advised both of them to continue resting. Tamerin didn't need any coaxing; she dozed off frequently as the doctors worked around her, and every time she opened her eyes again she would look over at her mate with a smile.

Throttle could tell she had figured out that something big had happened today, even if she couldn't remember what, and he wasn't anxious to explain it to her. There'd be time for that later, when she was stronger. For now, the two of them lay quietly while the others moved around them, the feeling of comfort and peace that hovered between them filling in what they didn't say.

Deichan, sensitive to her patients needs, had their beds pushed even closer together; Throttle promptly reached across the space and squeezed Tamerin's hand.

He fell back to sleep after that, feeling relaxed and safe, and when he woke up again a little while later the tubes had been removed from his arms. The bare spots felt a little funny--cold--but other than that he was pretty sure he didn't feel much differently than he did before the transfusion. Although his mate's emotions _did_ seem a little sharper to him, but that was probably because he was getting used to their bond being in place again.

Tamerin opened her eyes again a moment or two after he did, smiling drowsily at him as she tightened her hold on his hand. Though she looked like she didn't want to interrupt them, Deichan crept up to Throttle's bed and said softly, "You two have a visitor."

Throttle didn't need to ask to know who was anxiously waiting to see them, and he pushed the covers off and got out of bed with a grin. Deichan watched him with a worried look, but even though his feet were a little tingly, his legs felt sturdy as he stood. He felt stronger than he had since he woke up in here the first time--more than strong enough catch Michio and scoop him up into a tight hug as he came barreling into the room.

While his fleet-footed son squeezed him around the neck, Throttle's nose twitched as it was suddenly filled with a mellow, semi-sweet fragrance. Turning his head, he smirked at the bouquet of colorful flowers he found clutched in Michio's hand. "Are those for me?"

Michio rolled his eyes. "No, you dweeb, they're for Tammie."

Throttle narrowed his own eyes, pretending to be stern. "For who?"

Ears flicking, the little goat-creature pretended to think it over. "Mommy?"

"That's better."

He noisily kissed between his stubby horns, which made Michio squirm free with a look of embarrassment. Trotting over to Tamerin's bed, he thrust the flowers into her hand before placing his head on her shoulder and putting his arms around her, while Tamerin slid her arm around him with a warm smile. She didn't say anything; just stroked his head with her free hand as he hid his face against the side of her neck, sniffling quietly.

He was trying hard to stay brave, but Throttle could tell that this whole situation had shaken him up pretty badly. He had never really thought about it before, and he sure hadn't asked since it wasn't a subject you just brought up, especially to a child...but now he found himself wondering just how old Mitch had been when he lost his birth parents. He had been one of the oldest orphans in the group when the small ship carrying them had crashed on Malteria, but that didn't mean he remembered losing them--but there was also a chance that he did.

Whether he did or didn't, the concept of losing his adopted parents was more than a little scary, and he clung to Tamerin for a good long while before he finally straightened up and dried his eyes. Smiling faintly, she brushed her hand over his cheek and said, "I'll be fine. I just need to rest a little more."

Taking the hint, their son trotted back over to Throttle, who gave his shoulder a squeeze. "I'll be hanging around for a little longer too," he said. "Do you want to stick around, or...?"

"I can go hang out with friends," Michio said brightly. "That'd be a lot more fun than staying with Jayce. He's being a total stick in the mud right now."

He gave Throttle another hug, then moved back by Tamerin, set her bouquet aside and tucked the blanket up to her chin. "Now, you be good, young lady," he told her firmly. "You need lots of sleep, so that means no loud music and no video games. Got it?"

Tamerin nodded, her eyes closed. "Got it."

Snickering, he turned around and looked up at Throttle, who smirked in return. Michio wagged his finger meaningfully. "And _no_ being weird," he warned.

"We'll try," his adopted father responded, letting his voice fill with doubt.

Michio made a snorting sound and scurried out of the room. Grinning, Throttle went over and smoothed his hand over Tamerin's forehead, but she had fallen back to sleep already. The tan mouse, on the other hand, felt wide awake and alert--enough for him to finally notice just how silly he looked, walking around in an ill-fitting gray hospital gown that barely reached his knees. The over-sized robe and fuzzy slippers he quickly dug up weren't much of an improvement.

He was busy shuffling back and forth as he waited for Tamerin to wake up again, slipper bottoms scratching noisily on the floor, when his ears suddenly perked up. A pair of familiar voices were talking out in the hallway--and they were getting louder.

"I think you're nuts for wanting to go."

"And I think you're nuts for thinking I _wouldn't_ want to go."

"And I think you should stop arguing with me and stay here. I can handle this without you."

"Awww, does the little guard think he can coordinate an attack better than I can? That's so cute."

"Ugh, you are so _stubborn_!"

"Hey, just because I'm retired doesn't mean I've lost my edge."

"Stubborn. I'm not worried about you because you're retired, I'm worried about you because you're pregnant. And did I mention that you're stubborn?"

This exchange would probably have continued, but the two of them suddenly spotted Throttle peering around the doorframe and hushed up. Bevra's expression went deadpan, which didn't quite mask the look of amusement in her eyes, while Rimfire looked ruffled from head to toe.

"What's up?" Throttle wondered, knowing that they wouldn't be arguing in the middle of a quiet hospital for no reason.

The pair exchanged glances for a moment, something silently passing between them. "We weren't going to say anything," Rimfire began hesitantly, "but...you're going to find out anyway, so we might as well tell you. Especially if you plan to head to Mars soon."

Throttle frowned. "Tell me what?"

"We just got word that a big battle is going on," the young guard told him, after hesitating again.

The tan mouse's heart sank as he imagined more damage being done to his home neighborhood. "More sand raiders?" he guessed.

"And rats. They've all teamed up and are storming the city--or are trying to, anyway. Last we heard they haven't breached the outer wall yet."

Throttle grew quiet as he pictured what must be going on at home right now--pictured how his bros were no doubt fighting directly at the heart of everything. His only plans for the rest of the day were to wait right here, hovering in the hospital room until Tamerin was back on her feet, but now he was feeling an undeniable tug of longing to join his bros in the heat of battle.

He gave himself a shake, dispelling the urge...sort of. "Are you going?"

" _I_ am," Rimfire muttered, his attention returning to his fiery-haired mate. "I think _you_ should wait here. Both of you."

"Mars is my home, too," Bevra countered. "I'm not going to just wait around while somebody trashes it."

Throttle felt another tug--and this time it must have shown on his face, because the redhead suddenly looked at him and asked, "Are you planning to head over there, too?"

He quickly shook his head. "I couldn't. Not when..."

Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder, but Tamerin had turned her head, so he couldn't see if she was still asleep or not. "I'm sure she'd understand," Bevra noted as he looked at her again.

"I can't leave her. Not now, after all that just happened."

The former general looked understanding--but she also looked like she understood (as well as shared) his urge to get out of here and straight into the action. "No one will blame you for wanting to sit this one out, but don't forget that she'll be going to Mars too, once she's on her feet again. So look at it this way; you can either go on ahead and help get things under control, or you can wait until she's ready to go with you...though keep in mind that it's probably going to be a while before she's in top shape."

Put that way, he was pretty sure he knew which choice was best for her--for both of them--but he still wasn't going to make any big decisions without her. "Whatever you decide," Bevra told him as she and Rimfire started down the hall, "there's some things he and I need to take care of before we teleport to Mars, so we'll see you later."

"You mean some things you and I need to take care of before _I_ teleport to Mars," Rimfire corrected.

"That horse is long dead, little guard," his mate cooed. "You can stop beating it now."

Shaking his head in amusement, Throttle quickly turned and hurried back to Tamerin's bed, where he took her hand and reached to wake her gently--but she was already turning her head to look at him, eyes open. "I heard," she told him quietly. "It's all right. You can go."

Through their bond, he felt a tremor of separation anxiety, but overall she calmly accepted the idea of him running off to the battlefield without her. He even felt a twinge of jealousy, though it was almost lost under his own emotions, which were currently conflicted between his growing urge to help his bros create some wild destruction and his desire to stay at his mate's side, where he belonged.

But Tamerin flashed him a sleepy smile and gave his hand a tight squeeze. "It's all right," she repeated. "Really. I'll follow you later, I just need another one or two dozen naps first."

"The fight's bound to be over by then," Throttle noted with a grin.

"What, you think just because I'm languishing in bed means I'm going to let you hog _all_ the fun?"

Laughing softly, Throttle bent closer and framed her face with his hands. "My life just wouldn't be complete without you in it," he murmured.

Tamerin grew quiet for a moment, her abalone blue eyes studying him. "I think I proved today that I'm more than incomplete without you," she pointed out quietly. "But everything's fine now," she added with a smile, before the mood started to drop. "You saved me."

"The Doc helped," Throttle reminded her, grinning again. "And the transfusion was Rimfire's idea."

His mate's smile turned thoughtful, right before her tired eyes drifted shut. He felt gratitude inside her, a sense of security that she was surrounded by people who would always be there for her when she needed them. Her drowsiness grew. "You can go now," she murmured, eyes still closed. "I'm right behind you."

"I'll make sure there's a _little_ fun left for you when you get there," he promised cheekily.

But even with her permission, he still felt funny leaving her like this, and he leaned down and touched his antennas to her forehead, reminding her just how much she meant to him. He felt her love for him in return, the feeling warming him like a blanket, and a minute or so later she was asleep again, a smile on her face. Throttle took a moment to leave a firm, lingering kiss on her lips before he finally let go and stepped back, then went to find where they'd put his clothes before running out of the hospital and to the nearest transporter.

And even as the distance between them grew, to the point where he left Malteria and there was at least a galaxy between them, he would swear he could feel a soft touch, like his mate's presence was still with him.

* * *

Vinnie never thought he would live to see the night. What he was seeing was unreal; mice and rats fighting alongside each other instead of against each other, easy and natural as anything. The rats took orders without question or complaint--and doled them out just as often. Nitro was a natural-born leader and commanded his group swiftly and intelligently, along with the unit of mice that ended up under his control.

That other one--Poison--gave orders just as easily, and the others followed them as quickly as he dished them out. Vinnie couldn't quite describe how or why he had such an attention-grabbing, commanding presence, but whenever he called out instructions in that brusque voice of his, everyone listened--himself included.

As if fighting alongside rats wasn't surreal enough by itself.

And speaking of which; seeing the kinds of tactics the devious-minded rodents utilized up close but not being on the receiving end of them was an experience. Not that they fought dirty and used full-blown underhanded methods...but pretty damn close to it.

When the wall was first reopened and they all stormed out, it was a long while before the sand raiders and other rats picked up on the fact that a group of different rats were battling them right along with the mice. And before they finally got wise to it, Nitro and the others took full advantage of the confusion, directing combat in the wrong direction and yelling things like, "What the hell are you shooting at _me_ for, you idiot?"

It was a riot to behold, and Vinnie was pretty sure they were all disappointed when the light finally dawned and they had to fight normally. Well, normal for sneaky rats, who carried weapons like tiny pronged explosives that when thrown would embed themselves into the soft rubber of tires before detonating. Using methodical precision, it wasn't long before there were only a handful of non-mouse vehicles left in one piece.

Vinnie lamented the fact that his bike was somewhere inside the city--keeping Charley from coming back out, he hoped--along with the fact that his shield was about ready to fall apart in his hand. Grumbling in disappointment, he quickly dove for cover behind one of the barricades, while the battle continued with gusto around him. He was only there for a few seconds when Modo popped up beside him, sitting down with his back pressed against the barricade with a crooked grin. "Need a time out?"

"Nah, just taking a break to shine my boots. You?"

"Just catchin' my breath. I could keep this up for hours...see?"

As he spoke, the gray mouse held up the shield in his hand. The top half bent with a tired creak before cracking off completely and landing in the dirt with a thump.

It was probably a good idea for them both to head back inside--just long enough to grab new shields--but part of him didn't want to leave the battle for a second. Things were definitely in their favor now, and those bony rats couldn't have an infinite supply of that toxic dart...unless they'd found a way to replicate it themselves. He sure hoped not.

The thought hadn't quite finished forming in his head when someone abruptly dove into the spot on his other side, blaster drawn and grin a mile wide. "Mind if I join you?" asked Throttle.

"If you're done recuperating already, be my guest," Vinnie told him.

And as far as he could see, there was nothing remotely wrong with his bro. He looked like he was bursting with energy, and his eyes, currently free of his specs, were bright and glinting with excitement.

Modo's reaction to their bro rejoining them was a little less casual, and he looked him over with concern etched across his face. "You okay there, bro?" he asked softly.

"Never better," Throttle responded, tone firm. "And more than ready to kick these losers off our turf."

He paused for a second, his eyes meeting Modo's with a look that meant something to the gray mouse but was lost on Vinnie. "Tam's okay, too. I made damn sure of it before I left."

Vinnie wasn't sure what he meant, but his bro's words were obviously a relief to Modo, who visibly relaxed as he smiled. "Ready to help us bring this night to an end?" he asked.

As he spoke, he reached out his hand, palm down; Throttle slapped his own hand on top of it. "You better believe it. I didn't survive today just to come back and watch the fireworks."

Smirking, Vinnie placed his hand over Throttle's with a loud clap. "Let's do it, then."


	25. Chapter 25

Tamerin lost count how many times she dozed off, but each time she woke up again, she felt more and more lucid. When she woke up the first time she didn't really have any recollection of what was going on or how she'd wound up in the hospital on Malteria...but that had rapidly changed. She tried not to let on--Throttle was so happy she didn't want to ruin his mood and she knew she'd upset him by getting upset herself--but it hadn't taken long for the false sense that she had merely awoken from a long nap to fade, or for the last images she had seen before slipping away to nowhere to come creeping back.

She tried not to think about it now, either, even though Throttle was gone and out of range of their bond. Letting it fully sink in that the unthinkable had happened today--that her mate had _died_ \--was uncomfortable to the point where it started to scare her. It sent an icy chill through her and left her shaken, so much she almost worried that she'd send herself back into deadly shock if she wasn't careful.

But that was silly. Throttle was alive and safe, and both her mind and body knew it. His very blood now flowed in her veins, leaving a part of him with her even with light years standing between them--a much bigger part of him than what he usually left her with. Picturing it soothed her, calmed her in both mind and spirit to imagine his cells entwined with hers as they flowed through her heart and vital organs.

It was an image that relaxed her enough for her to fall back to sleep again, but the next time she woke up it wasn't on her own. Someone was touching her, stroking her forehead and brushing her hair back with warm, gentle fingers. It was a touch that hadn't woken her in about, oh, fifty years or so--not like this. But her body recognized the familiar gesture before her brain caught up, filling her with a sense of safety, of being cared for, of being loved in that endless, unconditional way only a mother could.

When Tamerin opened her eyes, she found her mother leaning over her hospital bed, caressing her hair and smiling--smiling in a way that lit up her amber eyes. They turned even brighter when she saw that her daughter was awake, and she bent closer to kiss her cheek before standing straight. "Welcome back," she said.

"Glad to be back," Tamerin responded...though what she really felt like saying was 'Who are you and what have you done with my mother?'

But after she'd stared mutely for a few seconds, it hit her; this _was_ her mother, the way she used to be before the war--or at least she was trying to be. Through the hand that still lay on her forehead, Tamerin could feel an urge to let go of the walls she built around herself during her long years of military service, to stop hiding behind a guise that wasn't necessary anymore and just be who she was, though the feeling was all but buried under motherly affection and happiness that her daughter was all right.

"I know you need your rest right now," the former general said, as she moved her hand from her forehead and rested it on her arm, "but we wanted to come say hi before we took off for Mars."

Noting that her mother said 'we,' Tamerin lifted her head and scanned the room for Rimfire. He was standing over by the door, looking a little shy--and a little put out, which made Tamerin hide a smile. Earlier she'd woken up just in time to hear the little argument with his new mate.

She wasn't expecting to see anyone else, so it took her by surprise when she spotted Jayce hovering a few feet behind the off duty guard. His sullen expression and the way he wasn't looking at anyone left her unsure of what was on his mind right now, so she shifted her gaze back to Rimfire with a smile. "Throttle said the transfusion was your idea."

The young mouse's shyness grew. "It was the only way I could think of that might let you know he was okay," he told her. "I'm so happy it worked."

Her smile broadening, Tamerin couldn't stop herself from saying, "Well, thanks, Junior Dad."

Rimfire started to turn red, and he sputtered something she didn't quite catch...while her mother gave her arm a tight squeeze that was both scolding and affectionate. "Behave yourself."

Snickering, Tamerin settled her head on the pillow again. With a huff of air, Jayce suddenly dodged around Rimfire and marched--almost stomped--to her bedside, his expression and body language clearly stating that he didn't want anyone coming close to or touching him. Especially not their mother, who watched him with a cool look that belied the tremor of regret Tamerin felt from her.

Her humor gone, she pulled her other arm out from under the blanket and put it around her brother as he leaned over her, resting his head against her neck as he held her--a little clumsily, what with her still lying down and all. He was keeping relatively calm on the surface, but underneath there was a torrent of emotion. First and foremost was that same affection and sense of security she'd felt that morning she'd comforted him, the kind of feeling that seemed more like what someone would have for their parent than a sibling. A feeling that was sharply underscored with anger. Jayce was angry that this had happened to her, yet at the same time so relieved she was okay he was ready to start crying.

Which of course he wasn't going to do with their mother in the room, and the fact that she _was_ in the room made him even angrier. He didn't hold her for very long, and he didn't utter a word, knowing that she could plainly feel what he didn't say. When he straightened up in a hurry it was obvious he meant to make a quick getaway--but he didn't get the chance.

Jayce's reflexes were fast, but their mother's were just a little bit faster. Just enough for her to reach out and latch onto his wrist before he was able to jerk away. Her other hand still rested on Tamerin's arm, and she felt that tremor of regret swell into an ache of remorse, mixed within the infinite flow of love in her heart.

Her brother's empathic abilities weren't strong, but they were more than adequate to feel that powerful wave of love swelling like the tide, along with the pride it carried. His eyes clouding, Jayce tried to pull away, but Mom held on tightly and moved around the bed, where she pulled her son into her arms. She had to stand on tiptoe to do it, but she rested her head on his shoulder and stroked his hair as she whispered in his ear.

"No matter what was going on, I never stopped loving you for a second. You'll always be my son and I am so, so proud of you."

Tamerin watched as a tremor visibly ran through her brother, coupled with a thick swallow. He didn't hold her back...but he didn't try to move away, either. By the doorway, Rimfire was fidgeting. "I'll, um, go wait by the transporter," he murmured.

Tamerin quickly sat up--and quickly regretted it as her head spun and her vision blurred. "Don't," she told him. "You're part of this family now, awkward moments and all."

Jayce suddenly stepped back with a funny look on his face, and he pretended not to notice as Mom reached up to wipe his tears away. "I don't have to call him Dad, do I?"

Their mother snorted. "No. I kind of wish your sister wouldn't, either."

"Hey, she takes after you, so that makes all her weirdness your fault."

"Don't I know it," sighed Mom.

She chuckled, and Jayce visibly relaxed a little, as did Rimfire, who was trying hard not to smile too widely. Tamerin lay down again with a grin, not minding that the three of them were bonding at her expense.

Glancing at her mate, her mother said, "Why don't you two go make sure everything is ready? I'll be along in a minute."

Jayce merely shrugged in response, which Rimfire took as an invitation to head out with him. After they were gone, Mom came back to her bedside and straightened the blanket. As her fingers brushed her, Tamerin felt that motherly warmth again, and her body instantly went slack in response. She felt so peaceful and safe right now, and sleep was starting to tug at her eyelids again.

But as her mother moved her hands away, a sudden thought popped into her head--a sobering one. She smiled wanly. "I guess this proves it, huh?"

Amber eyes studied her for a moment. "Proves what?"

She wasn't touching her anymore, so Tamerin wasn't sure if her mother knew what she meant and was just humoring her or not. Stifling a sigh, she said, "Which of us is stronger."

Her mother lifted her eyebrows. "And this was something you actually took time to wonder about?"

Tamerin felt her cheeks warm a little, but she didn't bother denying it. "I didn't dwell on it or anything, but part of me always kind of thought how I never hide what I feel, no matter what..."

She let out a weak laugh. "Guess I had that one wrong, huh? When it came to Dad...you survived all on your own."

For a long moment her mother was quiet, fingers absently drumming on the bed rail. "You want the truth?" she suddenly asked.

Tamerin wasn't sure what she meant, but she shrugged. "Sure."

"If I had to go through what you did, I wouldn't be standing here talking about this with you right now."

She didn't know if she understood what her mother was talking about, since they had both gone through the same thing--they had just handled it very, very differently. The biggest reason for any Imeeran to go into a shock they never recovered from when their mate died was because they were close enough at the time to feel it happen. Through their mental bond, they felt the other die, felt their life force come to an end and the bond itself break off sharply, severely. It was still unclear exactly why it happened--either because the shock alone was what made it lethal, or because the connection between mates was so powerful, it was part of their nature to try to stay together no matter what. If one died, then the only course remaining for the one bereft was to follow along.

Anyone in range of their bond when their mate perished died too, one-hundred percent of the time. If someone found their mate's corpse after the fact, like she had, the chance of survival was roughly fifty-fifty, though most who lived were never quite the same afterward. Looking back on her own reaction, and then recalling her mother's reaction so many years ago...it was more than a little humbling. Not to mention she and Throttle only had six months together compared to the two centuries her parents had spent as a couple.

Definitely humbling.

After a long silence, her mother finally said in a quiet voice, "If I had seen your father, and touched him when there wasn't any life left in him..."

She gave her head a shake as she shut her eyes for a second. Tamerin was so surprised she sat up again--slowly this time. "You never...?"

Tamerin knew that her mother hadn't been there at his funeral with her and Jayce, but for all these years she had assumed that she had gone to see him at some point before his body was burnt to ash, so she could say goodbye. Her mother shook her head again. "I knew that I wouldn't be able to handle it, so I didn't face it. I made sure no one ever said anything about him being gone. I never stopped to let myself think about it--every time he came into my mind, I laughed it off and told myself that he was fine, he was just too busy scouting the surface to come home. I kept telling myself that he was safe and that he'd be back any minute."

She laughed thinly as she dropped her gaze. Tamerin chewed her lip uncertainly before asking, tentatively, "How long did you tell yourself that?"

"For years. The more time passed and the more I immersed myself in my duties, the less I thought about it--and the less I worried when I did. Finally, I think it was almost a decade later when I stopped whatever I was doing and said out loud, 'He's not coming back. It's time to tell him goodbye.'

Tears moistened her eyes as she spoke, and Tamerin felt the urge to reach over and comfort her, but her mother shuffled back a step as she wrapped her arms around herself. "It was horrible," she murmured, chin tucked to her chest. "It was like someone had kicked me in the stomach. It was minutes before I could even breathe again. But when it passed...it passed. I was all right."

She looked at her daughter again. "If I had seen his body, or let myself think about it sooner..."

Sighing, she let her arms drop. "That was one of the reasons why I couldn't go back to you and Jayce. I knew you both needed me, but I also knew the two of you would be grieving in the way I couldn't. I wanted--needed--to go on living so I could fight the ones who took your father away from me. I wanted to go back and see you both so many times...but I just couldn't. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Tamerin told her quietly, blinking back tears. "You did what you had to. And I really am glad you have Rimfire now."

Her mother smiled faintly. "Thank you. That means a lot. But now," she said, as she coaxed her daughter to lay back down, "you need to rest up a little more if you're going to join us later."

Tamerin's eyes rested on her mother's flat belly. "You sure you two shouldn't just hang out here with me?" she teased.

"Don't _you_ start," Mom warned.

* * *

"Now _this_ ," Vinnie exclaimed happily, "is fun!"

Throttle had to agree. It was fun to shoot at the heels of retreating sand raiders after their rides were blown up, and to tackle the tiring rats and drag them, grumbling and whining, over to the mice's growing collection of prisoners. Throttle was aware that he was running around with more vigor and enthusiasm than anyone else, but he couldn't help it. He was energized in a way he couldn't really describe, to the point where if he hadn't lived through it himself (so to speak) he would never believe that just a few short hours ago he had been lying dead on an operating table.

He didn't have his bike--none of them did--but he felt so pumped he didn't even care. He'd been darting all over the battlefield ever since he joined his bros, ducking, rolling, and shooting every few seconds, but he wasn't so much as short of breath yet. There was a vitality burning in his veins, so strongly it felt like he could keep this pace up for days.

He also felt that vague, whisper-like hint of his mate around him, and more than once it had him looking over his shoulder to see if she was there. But there wasn't any sign of her--although someone who strongly resembled her abruptly showed up, teleporting right into the heart of the battle.

After punching a sand raider in the face and knocking him flat, Bevra planted her foot on his gut and yelled out, "Party's over, bitches, you're dealing with _me_ now!"

If her sudden--and over-the-top--appearance wasn't enough to make their attackers stop and stare, the fact that it looked like she'd brought an army of her own with her sure was. Armed and ready--and led by Jayce--the Imeerans charged into the fray with absolute fearlessness, even when facing the handful of toxic darts that were left.

Rimfire was also with them, though he mostly fired from a distance since he was still favoring one of his arms. Throttle joined in again, but the battle didn't last for much longer.

Somehow, the aftermath stayed orderly despite how many leaders were out here. With their job done, Bevra coordinated pulling her men--or rather Jayce's men, as her son artfully pointed out, he was just temporarily sharing them--out of the way while sending a few units into the city to assist with the cleanup, at the same time Jayce instructed a group to transport all of the mice that had fallen prey to the toxin within the last few hours to Malteria, so they could try to revive as many as they could.

While they were involved with that, Nitro and the rest of his group started helping round up the wounded and get them to the base for treatment. "I'm heading back for now so I can lend a hand getting all these guys down into the city," Bevra told Rimfire, as she rested her hands on his shoulders and bumped her nose against his. "And then I'll be home in time to tuck you in."

Throttle snickered as Rimfire gave his mate a weary look. "The sun is coming up in less than an hour," he pointed out.

"I'm sure you're still going to be tired."

She took her time petting his two-toned hair and kissing his face before she finally pulled away and rejoined the others. "Thanks for the help, Mom," Throttle called after her.

Everyone in earshot started sniggering--including Rimfire--while Bevra let out a groan. "Stop, you're getting as bad as that daughter of mine."

Rimfire continued to snort on laughter. "Does this mean you should start calling me 'Dad?'" he wondered.

Throttle turned blank. "On second thought, forget I said that."

The rest of the Imeerans were ready for transport and were putting their helmets on...except for one, who suddenly broke away from the group and walked up to Throttle, long hair ruffling in the breeze. "Everything okay?" Throttle asked uncertainly.

Jayce didn't answer right away, his garnet red eyes studying him intently. Something in his stoic expression softened a little. "Yeah. Sorry about that scene back at the hospital. It's not your fault we are the way we are...I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"Can't say I don't understand how you felt," Throttle said quietly. "We cool now?"

With a small smile, the dark-skinned Imeeran wordlessly held out his hand; Throttle took it and gave it a brotherly squeeze. Smile deepening, Jayce went back to his men, and after they teleported away en masse in a glow of blue-white light, Throttle turned to head into the city with the other mice and the rats.

In spite of all the damage, which was wide-spread beyond the inside of the wall, everyone's mood had lifted. Those who had been captured were already being hauled away, and the ones who had managed to flee weren't likely to try anything else after this. Still, victory was bittersweet; repairs would take time and many lives had been lost. But Throttle could tell by the look of resolve carved in the faces of those around him, no one alive today was going to ever grow so relaxed that they were at risk of something like this happening again.

With the sky rapidly brightening overhead, wounded who couldn't move on their own power were taken to be cared for, civilians slowly started to emerge from hiding, and military who were still on their feet began organizing the cleanup process. Throttle moved deeper into the city with his bros, heading in the direction of the base at Vinnie's direction, since that was where he'd left Charley.

They found her sitting out on a stack of empty ammunition cases, with a large bandage snugged around her right thigh and a crutch tucked under the opposite arm. Parked in front of her was Vinnie's bike, silent and immovable, like a sentry. Charley looked annoyed and bored, but she perked up when she saw her husband approaching, and he happily ran ahead to pull her into a gentle but tight embrace.

Throttle felt a twinge of envy--just before a familiar voice let out a happy exclamation somewhere behind him and Modo. Grinning, the big gray mouse spun around and scurried over to his mama, who handed Ako to him before brushing the dust off her son. "You're a mess," she said crisply. "And you must be starved after all that carnage, so here; I made this special for you."

Modo gladly took the lunchbox she thrust at him while he cupped Ako in his other hand and cuddled him against his cheek. He looked ready to relax...but Throttle could see the distant look in his eye, and could guess what it meant--who he was worrying about.

As he turned away from the happy families and moved over to where Carbine was lending a hand with a group of wounded laid out on temporary stretchers, Throttle had to give his head a shake at how many there were, and how much mess had been added onto the one from yesterday. He could only imagine where Ashlin was hiding right now, what with her being saddled with part of the blame for this. Sure, everyone had figured out by now that Nitro and the others weren't sided with sand raiders, or with other rats, but Ashlin didn't know that yet.

His guess was that she was locked up at her and Modo's place right now, probably afraid to set foot in public, and...

This thought faded in a hurry as he stared in dry surprise at the small figure he had just spotted moving a few yards away. At first he thought he was imagining it because she was on his mind, but no; it was definitely Ashlin, bent down a little as she moved past the ones cleaning up, her eyes darting around like she was looking for something. As Throttle watched, he noticed that it didn't look like she had just stepped outside. Her hair was tangled and dusty, and her clothes were grimy, her boots clumped with dirt, the seam of one of her pant legs torn.

A footstep made him turn his head; Carbine had moved up beside him, arms folded as she watched the same thing he was. Her expression was too blank for him to read...but if he had to put a name to it, he would call it stony. Frowning, he looked over at Ashlin again--and had his heart fill with an ache of love he never realized he felt for the young Martian.

Ashlin had found what she'd been searching for and was now kneeling on the ground, and pulling something out of the black case she'd been carrying. Lying on a flat stretcher next to her was a groggy-eyed soldier who looked like he'd been roughly patched up while still in battle before being taken off the field; with a warm smile, Ashlin reached over and began carefully cleaning one of his hands before wrapping a fresh bandage around it. When she finished, she took out what looked like a pain tablet and coaxed it into his mouth.

"This ought to tide you over until they get you inside," she told him with another smile. "Take it easy; you'll be fine."

Her patient flashed her a tired smile in return before closing his eyes with a sleepy yawn. Ashlin closed her bag and stood--just as Carbine called out her name, so sharply and suddenly Throttle jumped in surprise. "Come here," she ordered.

Throttle felt a burst of protectiveness, and he sidestepped closer to his ex, ready to put himself between her and Ashlin, if he had to. "Whatever it is you're doing," he told her lowly, "don't."

Carbine ignored him, her eyes hard as Ashlin cautiously came closer. She was worn out, but up until the General had yelled for she had still been smiling. Now she looked ready to shrink back as Carbine scrutinized her for a long moment. Without looking away, she called for Vice, who came trotting up to her side--like a trained dog, Throttle thought dryly.

"Bring it," Carbine told him.

Without needing to be told what 'it' was, the brown-furred mouse hurried off into the base and was soon back. As Throttle watched, his frown hard and his forehead lined with puzzlement, Carbine turned and wordlessly opened the small, rectangular box her aide had in his hands. He could tell right away that it was anything but ordinary, and that anything it held had to be special. The outside was a dark, polished wood that gleamed even in the pale morning light, and the inside was lined with rich blue velvet. The General drew something out that glinted gold and silver, then turned back to the petite Martian who was watching her, silent and anxious.

Ashlin didn't look like she had any idea what was going on...but all at once Throttle understood. Because he recognized what his ex was holding, and with a heavy swallow he took a step back as she moved closer to the young rat-cross. He had only seen it a couple of times in the past, but he knew that the glistening star-shape in the General's hand was a medal the military awarded to ordinary civilians for displaying unwavering courage and perseverance during a dire situation. And as she pinned it to Ashlin's shirt, Carbine told her, "If anyone ever screws with you again, for _any_ reason, you send them straight to me. Got it?"

Looking stunned, Ashlin nodded mutely; Carbine gave her arm a squeeze before turning away with a smile.

As soon as the General was out of the way, Modo rushed into her place, all but knocking Ashlin off her feet as he gathered her into his arms and hugged her to his chest, with Ako perched on his shoulder and watching with delight. Throttle politely looked away while his bro peppered Ashlin with kisses and murmured adoring words in her ears, though Ashlin looked like she was still in a daze and didn't say much as she hugged him in return.

Throttle was feeling a little blown over himself, and as he turned around he gave his head a shake to clear it--a second before his eyes focused on the scene that had been going on behind him. Because if it wasn't one thing, it was another, he noted dully.

Vinnie came to join him and Modo, his arm tightly around his wife as she leaned on him for support in lieu of her crutch. He had spotted the growing commotion too and he asked testily, "What's going on now?"

Throttle didn't know, but he _did_ know that the group milling around dressed in uniform wouldn't be raising a ruckus over nothing. They were standing around a pile of unmarked crates, and from the looks of it each one of them was filled with weapons of every kind. Field scouts were bringing over more, presumably gathered from the battlefield.

Drawn by the noisy chatter, Carbine came over and looked down at the growing mound. "Is there a problem?" she asked.

"That's what we're trying to decide," someone wearing a commander's uniform responded. "All of this stuff was dropped by the sand raiders, and the scouts found these crates stashed a little farther out in the desert."

Hands on her hips, the General surveyed the crates for a good minute or two, eyebrows raised. "You found all this in the desert? Are you _sure_?"

"Positive," said the commander, looking rattled.

Curiosity finally got the better of him, and with his bros at his heels, Throttle stepped into the midst of the military crew, whose mutters of surprise continued around him. "What's up?" he wondered.

Lifting her eyes to his, Carbine slowly withdrew one of the weapons and held it up for him to see. "You tell me," she said flatly.

For a moment Throttle could only stare, not understanding. Because he knew the shape of the blaster in her hand, recognized every line and curve, having seen that make and model countless times being toted in the hands of border patrol guards. With a growing knot in the pit of his stomach, he looked down and scanned the contents of the crates, but each and every piece drew the same conclusion.

"These are ours."

The blasters, rifles, mines, grenades, bits of armor...everything was property of military mice.

Carbine dropped the blaster she was holding back into the crate with a sharp clatter. "When I find out who's responsible for this..."

Vinnie suddenly stood up straighter, posture rigid like he'd just remembered something. "Yesterday when you mentioned that some reports had been wiped from the computers...just what kind of reports were they?"

The General turned blank for a second--and then she let out a humorless laugh as she rubbed between her eyes. "They were all reports cataloging the contents of our weapon storage--lists of what's been brought in and taken out for the last several months. We thought it was just a system glitch, but to be safe we were going to take inventory...as soon as this mess was taken care of, of course."

She shook her head and fell silent, as did everyone else, but no one needed to speak up for it to be clear what was on everyone's mind right now. This whole thing had been orchestrated by someone--a mouse--on the inside. A mouse with military clearance.

"Guess that finally clears up any lingering suspicion about Ashlin and her father, huh?" Throttle noted blandly.

He didn't really expect anyone to answer such an obvious statement, but someone did anyway--angrily. "You want to run that by me again?"

Surprised, they all turned to see that Nitro had joined them while they were all staring at the crates. Ashlin quickly broke away from Modo and put her arms around her father; he briefly put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze before nudging her back to Modo. His dark eyes were quietly blazing as he went up to Carbine, arms folded and ears flattened. "Allow me to make one thing very, very clear," he began in a low voice. "None of us are on anyone's side except our own. We've never given out what we have since we became who we are, and we don't take from anyone. We don't need to."

Carbine looked him over for a moment before her eyes drifted over his shoulder; Throttle followed her gaze and saw Poison standing in the shadows, listening silently. His expression was sour, but when he suddenly spoke up, it wasn't to add to Nitro's remarks. "Are you going to tell? The news won't keep just to their ears, you know."

Nitro glanced at him, eyes full of understanding...and a hint of amusement. "It's not like it used to be. These days, who's going to hurt us if they know?"

Poison appeared to think this over, then shrugged and fell silent again. The golden-furred rat turned his attention back to Carbine. "The truth is, when I said we've never sided with anyone, that includes the Plutarkians. Years ago, we started out as a group of the only rats who were against the idea, knowing that what they were going to leave us with in the end wasn't worth it. But none of the others listened to us, and we knew you mice would never believe a word we said, so we packed up whatever we could and fled."

Surprise registered on the General's face. "Fled where?" she wondered.

Nitro looked amused again, a slight smirk touching his lips. As if he felt like he was letting them all in on a big secret that had been under their noses the entire time...and Throttle suddenly got the feeling that it had. "The only place to go with the surface being trashed. Underground."

"And you've been there ever since?" asked Carbine, a hint of incredulity in her voice.

"Not constantly, no. It was a struggle at first, but we learned to adapt. We developed our own way of life, with no one up here having any clue that we were living beneath their feet. Oh, and don't think that just because you know now, you'll be able to find us; we've built our existence around avoiding detection. No one finds us unless we want them to--and no one finds our homes. Ever."

He paused, his eyes shifting to the mound of weapons for a second. "So," he went on, his voice taking on a hard edge, "the fact that you'd think we'd be responsible for this--" he nodded at the crates, "--is insulting. We don't need to take anyone else's weapons--we make our own. And we'd never share, especially not with _them_. They turned on us years ago, same as you. The hell with them."

With a shake of his head, Nitro's eyes narrowed a little. "But that's just like you mice," he muttered. "Always thinking you're one step ahead of everyone else. That you're bigger, faster, and smarter in pretty much everything, right? That's not what we saw out there today."

Carbine was bristling. "I get it," she snapped. "We're just trying to figure this out, here. The thought that one of ours is behind all this isn't exactly comforting."

It sure isn't, Throttle agreed silently. He couldn't imagine what could drive a mouse to this--to make them willing to not only hand out their own arsenal, but to potentially risk the lives of everyone they knew. Their own friends and family. His eyes slowly scanned those around him; the tired soldiers, the parents stepping outside to help clean up with their young children, the maintenance crews working on fixing the wiring that had been damaged yesterday.

Everyone seemed so unified, he couldn't imagine who...

All of sudden his eyes rested on someone, and the rest of them seemed to fade away, until she was all he could see. The gentle Martian leaning against Modo's arm, her eyes distracted and her face full of concern--concern for those around her.

He spun around to face Carbine. "I want to see a list of every new recruit that's joined ranks over the last six months."

The request was unexpected, but his ex didn't ask any questions. "You heard him," she told Vice briskly.

It took him a little longer than when he fetched the medal box, but he soon came hurrying back and handed over a freshly-printed stack of papers. Throttle snatched them up and scoured their contents, even though he was already sure of what he would find...and find it he did. Jaw hardening, he passed the stack back and turned to his bros. "In the mood for a quick ride?"

"Can't," Modo told him with a frown--a sad one. "Our bikes are still parked outside the lab."

Throttle felt something sink inside him; he'd forgotten all about that. "Shit," he muttered. "We'll just have to walk."

"I've still got mine," Vinnie reminded him.

It was tempting to make a joke about how silly the three of them would look riding together...but when he turned to look at his bro and his injured wife, jokes were the last thing on his mind. They were both glad, like everyone was, that the battle was over, but there was pain behind their eyes. Anxiety over that one thing that was no doubt more important to them than anything else right now.

If his hunch was right, the pain they were feeling right now would be both eased and added to.

Throttle gave his head a shake. "Modo and I will handle it. You stay here and keep Charley company."

The pretty mechanic scowled in annoyance, though she didn't move away from Vinnie's side. "I don't need anyone to take care of me," she informed him crisply.

He couldn't help smiling a little. "I know. But right now I think it's best if you two wait here. It'll make sense when we get back."

Or maybe it wouldn't. He really didn't think Charley could handle coming along right now, but the one who worried him more was Vinnie. If his hunch was correct and the white mouse got there first, there wouldn't be anything left to bring to the authorities.

It took some more arguing, but he finally convinced them both to wait here while he and Modo hurried off together. "Where we goin'?" the gray mouse asked uncertainly.

"You'll see when we get there," Throttle told him grimly.

And if he was right, everyone would see before the day was out. He'd make damn sure every last citizen saw the truth.


	26. Chapter 26

_Looking from a distance_  
_The difference seems so small_  
_Has the grass been greener_  
_On the other side at all?_  
~Invidia;  Delain

Throttle could tell that Modo wanted to know just what the heck was going on, but his bro seemed to sense that he wasn't in the mood to talk as they rushed to the fringes of the residential district and didn't ask any questions. As far as Throttle was concerned, there wasn't anything left to say; what they were about to uncover would speak for itself.

Out beyond the regular homes and the shabby buildings that populated the outskirts they came to a small, shack-like structure, innocuous and out of the way. Its features were worn and showed signs of neglect, but it had a reinforced front door, which Throttle was tempted to blast and kick his way through as he hammered the buzzer. Several minutes of silence passed and he was starting to think he was going to have to blast his way in anyway when, finally, the door swished open. He guessed that the owner figured he better behave as normally as possible--like he had nothing to hide.

When he saw who was standing outside his door, he reached to hit the button that would close it again as panic registered on his face, but Throttle didn't give him the chance. Without hesitation or bravado, he slammed his fist into the large mouse's stomach, making him double over and sink to his knees with a pained intake of breath. A sharp whistle sounded for a second or two as air hissed between his teeth--or rather between his missing teeth.

"Hold him," Throttle ordered, as he stepped past Harper and into the stocky building. Modo looked bewildered, but he did what he was told, pulling the wheezing mouse into a headlock while Throttle started searching the place.

He didn't have to search far. In an adjoining room--on the other side of another locked, reinforced door, which he quickly cleared out of the way--he found charts plastered on the walls. Detailed maps of their own city, marked carefully with the placement of patrol guards, probable entry points, buildings of significance. On a table he found a hand-drawn outline of yesterday morning's attack.

When he rejoined Modo a little while later, Harper was thrashing and throwing a fit. "Just who the hell do you think you are?" he growled, as he tugged vainly at Modo's cybernetic arm. "You got no right barging in here like this!"

Throttle didn't bother commenting on the stupidity of this statement when the evidence of his crimes was pasted right to the walls. Instead, he artfully pointed out, "We may have been out of action for awhile, but we never quit our jobs as Freedom Fighters. We have every right to go anywhere we want when it involves investigating someone we suspect of treason. And kidnapping."

The burly mouse went still, though the look of venom didn't leave his face. On the other hand, Modo looked mutely stunned...and pained. He'd figured out the motive behind all this too. Throttle cast him a look of apology before hurrying back to his search. There wasn't much else to explore in the skimpy location; he found a kitchen, a bathroom, a storage closet--and another firmly locked door.

He wasn't in the mood to try to get the code out of Harper right now, so he busted this one down too...carefully. On the other side he found a small, sparsely-furnished bedroom. Just a bed, some shelves, a table and chair...and what looked like an old wooden playpen with a heavy board set over the top.

And sitting inside, plump little hands gripping the bars and tears matting his cheeks, was the droopiest baby mouse he had ever seen. It looked like he had been crying since long before Throttle broke down the door, but the noise of it had scared him--even more than he already was--and he hunkered down with his chin tucked to his chest as he whimpered and mumbled frightened baby gibberish to himself. But he perked right up when he realized who was standing in the doorway. "Unco!"

Throttle let the relief rushing through him put a smile on his face, knowing the sight would comfort the little guy, but underneath that relief he was furious. Harper would be lucky if he survived long enough for the military to execute him, because he was ready to tear him to shreds for dragging someone so helpless and innocent into his vendetta. "Come on," he said softly, as he knelt down and shoved the board off. "Let's get you home."

Vector was so happy to be free he squirmed like an excited puppy as Throttle lifted him out of the shabby crib, quivering and hugging him around the neck while repeating things like 'zank-yoo!' and 'home, home!' over and over again.

Throttle cradled him close as he went back to Modo, who in the meantime had dug up something to bind Harper's hands with. When the soft-hearted mouse saw who he was holding, a look of barely controlled rage flooded his features. "Can I kill him now?" he asked, through gritted teeth.

"I know how you feel, but we need to take him back. I want everyone to know what he's done--and why."

Modo didn't look concerned with the details right now. Just the fact that he was Vector's kidnapper was enough to send him into a fury even without him being the one responsible for aiding the sand raiders. As they started back for the base, he kept shaking his head and muttering to himself, his hands quaking with emotion as he gripped Harper's arms so tight each digit all but disappeared into his fur. "Did you help them plan out the second attack too?" he demanded at one point.

The dark-furred mouse didn't answer. He didn't say a word once they left his place, his expression emotionless as Modo all but dragged him along. He didn't bother putting up a fight anymore, his posture sagging and full of defeat. Throttle was pretty sure he knew there was no escape for him now. There was nothing left for him except to face whatever punishment was coming to him.

They were still a ways from the base when Vector started wiggling around in Throttle's arms, his little feet kicking ecstatically. He had spotted his parents, who were standing with the group still sorting through the weapons they had collected, and he let out baby squeals of delight. "Mommy! Daddy!"

Charley heard him first. She almost lost her balance as she let go of Vinnie and whirled around with a cry, tears flooding her eyes until they were spilling down her face. She tried to run to them, but her injured leg buckled and she sank to the ground; Throttle quickened his pace to a brisk trot and was soon placing her son in her outstretched, quivering arms. Charley tucked him tightly against her chest and broke down in sobs.

Vector was so happy to be back with his family he couldn't stop giggling, and he patted his mother's teary cheeks as she showered kisses on his head. "Wuvs you, Mom!"

With tears in his own eyes, his father came and dropped to his knees beside them, wrapping his arms around them both as he let out a shaky breath and whispered something Throttle didn't catch. Not that he wanted to; what was passing between the three of them was meant for them and them alone.

As he looked away, he noticed that the happy reunion had drawn attention, turning the heads of those who were around them and passing by--but it was the other thing that was happening that made them stop and watch curiously. With her arms folded and a dark look on her face, Carbine came over and stood before him and Modo. Her eyes, which showed surprise above her ready-to-get-down-to-business expression, glared long and hard at their captive. When she finally spoke, she only said one word. "You?"

Harper, who was now on his knees either at Modo's insistence or his own accord, dropped his gaze to his bound hands and kept his mouth firmly shut. Carbine shook her head, her disbelief plain. "Since the day you first started working at the base, you've babbled on and on about the importance of security and keeping our citizens safe, and you go and do something like _this_? Why?"

That last word came out sharply, almost a shout, but the dark-furred mouse remained mute. So Throttle answered for him by nodding in the direction of the group by the weapon crates. "Take a look over there."

Her face stormy, Carbine turned her head, but he could tell she didn't put it together right away. Not until her gaze fell on the slender Martian standing nearby, still checking over wounded before the swamped medical staff were able to bring them inside. She turned back to Harper with a look of disgust. "Her? You risked so many lives--and cost us plenty--all because of _her_?"

"He knew you'd blame her first, before you'd suspect anyone else," Throttle told her quietly.

The hardened general actually looked embarrassed for a second. Around them, the crowd continued to grow, as did the murmurs and whispers as everyone wondered just what was going on. Throttle could tell by the accusing glares on a handful of faces that some had already figured it out--figured out that the culprit who'd placed their own weapons in the hands of their enemies had been found. A handful of security guards were already discreetly fanning out, just in case the situation turned violent when the emotions started running high--which they no doubt would.

Harper abruptly lifted his head, looking Carbine squarely in the eye--though when he spoke, he didn't open his mouth very wide. Even though he was faced with almost certain death for his actions, he was still worried about his teeth. "It was never supposed to go this far," he said, with a slight tremor in his voice...though if it was caused by regret or fear for his own mortality, Throttle couldn't tell. "Those bastards and I had an agreement; better weapons for their fights with rats in exchange for making a little noise and swiping the kid. Siding with the rats and coming back was never in the plan."

Carbine let out a scoff and dropped her hands to her sides. "Oh, you mean a race that has proven countless times that they can never be trusted stabbed you in the back? I'm stunned."

She started to say more, but someone interrupted. With her face red with rage and her content little son tucked under her arm, Charley marched shakily past the General and swiped her hand across Harper's face, knuckles-first. She probably would have kept hitting him, but one of the guards hastily stepped in and coaxed her back. It took a lot more than one guard to convince Vinnie to do the same.

When the commotion caused by the furious parents finally calmed down again, Carbine went back to her interrogation. "I don't suppose you can fill me in on the motivation for all this...?"

"Motivation?" Harper echoed flatly. "You actually have to ask? She's a rat! I did what I had to do to get her where she belongs--locked up."

And he'd calculated the reaction to his little plan extremely well, Throttle thought grimly. Distrust for rats ran more than a little deep, and the moment strange things started happening, all eyes turned to Ashlin--thanks in part to stories spread by Harper and others, of course. And Ashlin encountering her father fit right into his plans, supplying him with even more motive behind her supposed betrayal than just revenge against the mice who had mistreated her.

Going after Ashlin directly probably never crossed his mind--because he was obviously a coward. He'd learned that night he and his cronies got the crap beat out of them at the bar that he'd never get away with coming after the rest of them, so he went after the only one everyone knew Ashlin was close to that couldn't fight back. And just like he'd planned, the military had about been ready to toss Ashlin behind electrified bars until her innocence was proven...if the very sand raiders that agreed to his scheme hadn't decided that attacking mice was more productive than fighting with rats, and with the very weapons Harper had handed over himself, that was exactly what they had done.

"No offense to her," Carbine said lowly, "but I find it kind of hard to believe that you or anyone else would go through this much trouble to incriminate one little mouse."

"She's not a mouse," Harper cried. "That's the whole point! Do you even realize how crazy it is to just sit back and watch while one of her kind moved in here like this? If we'd just left it alone, you know she would have done something worse. Something that would lead to more rats sneaking in, until our whole city is full of them!"

The look on Carbine's face was chilling. "You mean like the ones who just helped save our collective asses?"

As she spoke, Throttle turned his head and looked away from her and Harper, letting his eyes roam over the groups of mice crowding around, watching the scene that was unfolding before them. In the sky above, the sun continued to rise, lighting the ground and buildings and illuminating the figures moving beyond the crowd in pale gold. They were mice hard at work cleaning the streets, and the Imeerans who had stayed behind to help out...and rats.

The same rats who had fought alongside them just a short time ago where now clearing shrapnel from the ground, carrying wounded to the base, and patching up holes blasted into the walls of mouse homes and other places. As morning broke after a night like the one they just had, there was no sign of wariness, no distrust. Tools and equipment was passed back and forth between mouse and rat like it happened every day.

Looking down at Harper again, Nitro's irritated words from earlier came back to Throttle's mind, and he said in a quiet voice, "Let me guess: you're one of the ones who believes that we mice are better in every way. Smarter, honest, trustworthy..."

The dark-furred mouse turned red in the face as he cast him a look of hatred. "I did what I did because something much worse would have happened if I didn't! I'm _still_ the only one who sees what could happen if she's allowed to live here like one of us!"

"You mean like what happened last night?" Throttle wondered humorlessly. He gave his head a small shake. "Congratulations. In your mission to prove that rats can't be trusted, even half of one, and that we mice are superior in all things...you've managed to prove beyond a doubt that we're exactly the same."

Carbine abruptly turned away with a grunt. "I've heard enough--take him away," she ordered sharply. "And as for the rest of you," she went on, facing the crowd still circling around, "I'm not stupid. He couldn't have done this alone, and I can already guess who some of you who helped him are. I'm not sure how many there are, but make no mistake, I _will_ find you. Even if I have to bite and claw and drag you out of bed by your ankles, you're going to get what's coming to you."

She paused a beat, arms folding and eyes dark as death. "And if you run, that'll tell me whose guilty, and there's no where you can go where I can't find you. So why don't the handful of you that has half a brain make this go a little quicker and give yourselves up now."

Given the look on her face, Throttle was impressed that half the crowd didn't run off with frightened squeals. At first no one moved, tense glances passing back and forth as feet shuffled. Then, with shoulders sagging and hands lifting in surrender, almost a dozen male mice stepped forward and gave themselves up to security. Throttle recognized almost all of them, having swapped barbs with them late at night at Conrad's--and then exchanged punches with them during the brawl a while back.

Carbine didn't look completely satisfied, knowing that there had to be more, but she let it go for now and told everyone still crowding around to go home. Sighing, she turned to Charley. "I can't tell you how sorry I am. If there's anything I can ever do for you and your family, just let me know."

Charley thanked her and said that she would, but Throttle could tell by the smile on her face, the joy in her eyes as she rocked her son in her arms, that she had everything she needed. She was leaning on her husband again, who gave her shoulder a squeeze and kissed her cheek before looking over at his bros. "Anyone up to checking out how long it's going to take us to put the garage back together?"

"Sounds like a plan," said Modo, who looked tuckered out and like he was still a little in shock. His eye drifted over to Ashlin, who smiled faintly at him but didn't make a move to come closer.

Because Nitro was already reaching over to pull his daughter into his arms--to say goodbye, Throttle realized. Ashlin clung to him tightly for a long moment, and when her father gently coaxed her to let go, he guided her over to Modo, who quickly put his arm around her. Nitro smiled in approval. "Keep taking care of her for me, okay?"

Modo nodded solemnly. The golden-furred rat let his eyes trail over his daughter's face for a few more seconds before he turned away. His expression turning hard--challenging--he went over to Carbine, who eyed him in return warily. "We'll be getting out of here now," Nitro began, tone neutral. "But before I go, I want to make it perfectly clear that there are some things that need to change."

The General's expression turned warier, but she told him, "I'm listening."

"Now that the rest of Mars know we exist, we probably aren't going to go through as great of lengths to stay hidden. I don't expect this to be the start of a permanent alliance between us, but I don't want you shooting at us the second we have the nerve to show our faces, either. Respect us and we'll respect you."

"That's fair," Carbine said quietly.

"And I want to be free to come see my daughter any time I want. Oh, and if anyone ever bothers her again, I'm going to be...displeased."

"They won't," she promised. "I'm going to see to it personally. And I'll make sure everyone understands that rats aren't open targets anymore."

They shook in agreement, and then Nitro and the rest of them were gone. Throttle tried to watch where they went, but the ones he could see seemed to dissolve and disappear into the throngs of mice milling around, until he didn't have a clue who had gone where. "Somehow, I don't think the times we managed to take a shot at one of them were very many," he noted.

"Not since they went underground," Carbine agreed.

She paused, her eyes lifting to study his face for a moment. "Any thoughts about where we should go from here?"

Throttle lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "You're asking my opinion? This is a first."

She withheld the urge to slug him...too hard. As he absently rubbed his now sore shoulder, Throttle found himself looking back to something that happened six months ago, another battle--a war--coming to an end. He pictured his mate's reaction to that moment, remembered what she had felt inside. "Rebuilding would be a place to start," he murmured. "I'm sure Tam and the rest of them would be happy to lend us more resources and help with the repairs. And..."

He took a look around him, gazing at the damage done...but also at everything they had. "And I think we have a responsibility now. We have more than anyone else, and maybe keeping it all to ourselves isn't the right thing to do."

"So," his ex said slowly, "you think it's time for us to throw the others a proverbial bone, huh?"

"Either that or they'll probably try something like this again. Or maybe they'll fade away and die out forever."

Shaking her head, Carbine closed her eyes. "I suppose planting food where they can reach it easily wouldn't hurt," she allowed, opening her eyes again. "Maybe we could leave packages of rations and other provisions out, too."

"And maybe we could leave out something a little bigger than that," Throttle added.

"Like what?"

"I'll get back to you on that. Maybe it'll lead to something--something for future generations."

Carbine laughed softly. "Like what? Peace between our people and theirs? I'd say you were being ridiculous...but that would be coming from a mouse who just shook hands with a rat."

* * *

After her mother left, Deichan came over and advised her to stay in bed for a few more hours, until she was sure all of her vital signs had fully stabilized. Tamerin tried hard to comply, but after another handful of naps between long bouts of fidgeting and tossing restlessly, she finally decided that she'd lain around long enough. Her room and the hallway outside it had fallen quiet, which told her that Dee had drifted somewhere else and the nurses had gone back to their stations. Which meant that she could probably sneak out if she was careful.

Dee had already told her she should take it easy when she first started to really move around and didn't think it was a good idea to use the transporter for a few days, since the trip might trigger dizziness and nausea. It seemed so unfair; Throttle had gotten up and teleported to Mars hours ago without any trouble, so why was she still so shaky? She'd only been dying, she never actually...

She quickly reigned in her thoughts before they wandered too far and into uncomfortable territory. Sitting up, she tossed her blanket aside and swung her feet to the floor, ignoring the way her head spun like a drunken top as she stood up. There was a buzzing in her feet and her joints felt awkward, like a doll put together wrong, but she shuffled out of the room and into the hall. Her vision went funny a couple of times, turning dark at the edges, but she stayed conscious. That was something, she thought.

Her pace wasn't very quick, but she didn't stagger or fall, or catch anyone's attention as she turned a corner and aimed for a hallway that led to the nearest side exit. She was just starting to think that she'd get away without anyone being the wiser when she heard a male voice sigh heavily somewhere behind her. "Doc? She's escaping."

Groaning inwardly, Tamerin sped to a clunky trot and passed through an electronic door. "If she's made up her mind that she's ready to leave, you'll never convince her to come back," Dee told the nurse, with a matching sigh. "If she actually makes it all the way to the transporter then she's strong enough to be discharged anyway. If she passes out along the way, go pick her up and bring her back, please."

Well, jeez, you'd think she was stubborn or something.

Fortunately, she made it out of the hospital and across the city without planting her face in the street...though she turned plenty of bemused heads, what with her scurrying by in nothing but a hospital gown. Unfortunately, the guard station that had served as her temporary home for the year the city had been sealed off didn't have changes of clothes sitting out on the shelves of the weapon storage room anymore. And trying to tuck her nightgown into the legs of one of the airtight suits she couldn't head to the surface without definitely didn't work (just one of many reasons why she never wore skirts) so that left her with only one option.

"You ever put one of these things on with nothing underneath?" she asked, as she left the storage room and joined her old buddy Trent by the transporter controls.

The gray-skinned male looked amused. "Not that I can recall."

"I don't recommend it. Can you send me to Mars?"

"No problem. Hey, did I tell you that Melina and I are expecting?"

"You and practically everyone else I know," Tamerin noted.

And she was more than a little anxious to get home and see her own family...though she could tell that Trent didn't look completely sure about her going anywhere as she headed over into the lift that led to the surface. Word of her experience must have gotten around already. "I'm fine," she told him as the outer door started to close.

"If you say so, not my boss anymore."

During the ride topside, the wave-like motion of the lift made her so dizzy she had to sit on the floor, and the jolt she felt when the doors opened and the toxic air hit her didn't help. After picking herself up and dragging herself out onto the sand, she lifted the wrist communicator she'd grabbed when she put on the suit and signaled to Trent that she was ready. She didn't really feel being plucked from the surface of Malteria, sent across space and deposited on Mars, but when her feet settled on the ground again her knees almost buckled.

It took her a solid minute, but she managed to clear her head again--and well before that happened she felt Throttle's mind reach out and connect with hers, stronger and clearer than ever. At first she thought he was practically standing right next to her, but when she looked around, she didn't see any sign of him. She had teleported to a spot near their home, and she could tell as soon as she arrived that the battle was over. The sun shone brightly and she could see that repair-work was already well underway, with help from her fellow Imeerans...and a few rats. She had to raise her eyebrows at that last part, but nobody seemed to think anything was odd about it.

She'd definitely have to ask just what the heck she had missed, but first she wanted to find Throttle. She wanted to do that before she did anything else, and she pulled her helmet off and let it drop to the ground as she started shakily forward. It was strange; she'd never felt his mind and emotions this sharply before, and yet she couldn't quite pinpoint which direction he was. It still felt like he could be right beside her, but as she stumbled through the streets, she didn't spot any trace of him, or any of the others. But she could feel that he knew she was here, and he was already rushing from wherever he was to meet her.

Was she heading the wrong way? It'd sure be annoying if she was, but she still couldn't tell. Scrunching up her face in concentration, she slowed her uneven pace and tried to stretch out her senses, to connect a little more clearly and pinpoint exactly how far away he was, figure out whether or not he was ahead of her or behind her.

Nothing really seemed to happen, so she stretched a little more, stretched her mind out, out--and felt a jolt like nothing she had ever experienced before. It wasn't a harsh or jarring sort of feeling, but she definitely got the sense that she had just taken a step beyond what normally happened when two hearts and minds connected in the Imeeran bond. It couldn't have been half a nanosecond after this feeling came over her that everything changed.

She was still over by the residences not far from her own home, but all of a sudden she found herself outside the garage. Which was impossible, but she could see it clearly, and hear voices of people she knew weren't around her right now. Ashlin and Modo, Charley and Vinnie, scattered others. Then things shifted a little and she was seeing them from a distance, the scenery moving in the other direction like she was walking and looking over her shoulder. She heard a voice say, "I'll be right back."

It was so bizarre, 'bizarre' didn't seem like strong enough of a word. Her feet had still been moving forward, but when she heard that voice in her ears--Throttle's voice--she came to a lurching stop, latching onto something she couldn't see so she wouldn't fall. Yet the scene she was watching kept on moving, turning away from the garage and bursting into speed, like she was running.

She tried closing her eyes, but it didn't help. Her body was in one place, but it was like her mind had split and now existed in two places. And as she coaxed her heart, racing in confusion, to slow down, she noticed just how much more sharply she could feel her mate, even more than she could when she first arrived. She could feel his excitement and worry, hear his breath as he panted, just like all of it was her own.

Realization finally hit. She was inside Throttle's mind--and she was seeing through his eyes. She watched as they darted back and forth, hunting, searching. Searching for her.

If it wasn't strange enough on its own, it got even stranger when he finally found her. She saw herself from a distance, saw how she was clinging to the frame of a truck-like vehicle being used to haul away the junk collected from the streets. She looked almost gaunt in her protective suit, her hair limp and stringy as it fluttered in the breeze. Her eyes look wide and frightened in her confusion, her lids circled with dark rings and her lips blueish-purple, like she'd been swimming in cold water for too long.

To put it bluntly...she looked like crap. Yet Throttle all but pounced on her and gathered her in his arms, cradling her to his chest like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen as love flooded through his heart and into her own. There was so much of it, it would have taken her breath away even if she wasn't feeling it firsthand--along with sensing it normally in her own body, like she was supposed to.

He was so happy to see her, but he was worried, not understanding why she was so rattled. "What's wrong?" he asked, as by feel she let her head drop to his shoulder.

She had closed her eyes again, but she still got a closeup view of her own purple eyelids as her face was cupped in his warm hands and lifted so he could look at her. He asked her again what was wrong, but she didn't even know where to begin. There had to be a way to go back into herself--she couldn't possibly be stuck like this.

Closing off her emotions wasn't something she was familiar with, but she knew it was possible with enough practice. She tried coaxing her mind back, reeling it in, reversing what she had been doing that caused this in the first place...hopefully.

She had been at it for several minutes when her vision abruptly went black, the sight of her own face vanishing. Anxiously steeling herself, she cracked her eyelids open. The face of her mate, his pretty eyes loaded with concern, popped into view.

With a shaky sigh of relief, she let her head sink to his chest. It took her a while to describe what had just happened, and she was pretty sure he didn't understand--not that _she_ did. She had never heard of anything like this happening before, not even to the couples who had spent over eight hundred years together.

"So, let me get this straight," Throttle began, his puzzlement plain, "you can now hop into my head and look through my eyes anytime you want?"

Tamerin gave a shrug. "I guess. That's what it looks like."

But she really wasn't anxious to try that again. Even without him pulling a face, she could tell that her mate wasn't either. "Can I do the same thing?"

She shrugged again. "I have no idea. You can try, if you want."

She described to him how she had reached out with her mind and senses, but after several minutes of attempting to repeat what she had done, he gave up with another face. "I can't seem to bring myself any closer to you. I don't sense you any stronger now that I'm right next to you than I did when I was still back over by the garage. And even when you were still at the hospital, I would swear I could feel you while I was here. Just a tiny bit, but the feeling was definitely there."

With a shaky breath and a weak smile, she said, "I guess this is what happens when you have your mate's blood in your veins."

"I figured as much. But you can't, you know...read my thoughts now, can you?"

Tamerin shook her head. "I didn't hear any. I just felt everything that you felt, like your heart was mine. It was kind of hard to tell which emotions were yours and which ones were mine, actually."

Throttle wrinkled his nose. "Sounds confusing. I hope you can learn to control it."

She did too, and not just because she knew her mate was a little uncomfortable with the idea of her being able to take a peek at what he was doing via his own eyes, even when he would rather she didn't--or even when _she_ would rather she didn't.

Groaning softly, she moved closer and rested her head on his chest again. "I'm too tired for this," she mumbled.

A wave of tenderness and wanting to take care of her swept over her, and her mate slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close as he turned in the direction of the garage. "We'll work it out, somehow. For now, let's go back and tell the others it's time for a break. There's a lot to fill you in on."


	27. Chapter 27

Explaining everything that had happened while she was gone took a long time. A very long, confusing time, since as soon as she and Throttle reached the garage he and the others dove right into describing last night's battle, which of course led to them taking turns bragging about some of the stunts they had pulled. And taking turns meant they talked rapidly over and cut each other off without warning.

Tamerin's mind was still reeling from what just happened between her and Throttle and she wasn't really following what the loquacious mice were saying very well, but in the end her sleepy brain zeroed in on the points that mattered most, especially to her; the battle, while not without casualties, had been a success, the ones responsible for getting the sand raiders riled up in the first place had been caught, Vector had been rescued...and Ashlin had decided to stay right where she was.

Ashlin was a little surprised that both she and Modo had worried about her joining her rat kin. She told them that morning that no matter what else was going on, her home was with the people she loved most. And while she loved her father too, she was content with seeing him when he came to visit and had no plans whatsoever in settling permanently in rat territory.

Tamerin was so relieved to hear it she gave her baby girl a huge hug before taking a nap in the nearest chair. The sight was apparently inspiring, because when she woke up later everyone except Throttle had gone home to bed. Considering that they had all been awake for well over twenty-four hours, she couldn't blame them.

"Come on," said Throttle, as he casually lifted her in his arms and carried her out of the garage through the gaping hole still in the overhead door. "I'm going to tuck you in bed and then go pick up Mitch. We can continue fixing up the garage tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan," Tamerin responded with a yawn.

And that was the only real plan any of them followed for the next week or so. There weren't taking any repair jobs right now (and thankfully the bikes that were still waiting to be picked up the day the sand raiders broke in had only received mild external damage) but there were plenty of anxious bikers who needed their rides looked over after the battle, so they all made sure to devote several hours each day to getting their work space back in order.

They'd made a lot of progress already, but it was probably going to be a little while longer before they would be able to reopen for business. In spite of this, and in spite of the cleanup efforts that would be going on for a whole lot longer outside, life had pretty much gone back to normal already.

Well, normal except for the whole leaping into her mate's head situation. She'd already lost count how many times it had happened since the first time. Sometimes it was only for a few seconds, sometimes it went on for minutes. She'd yet to do it completely on purpose; it usually happened while they were apart, when she was the most apt to absently wonder what he was up to--and the next thing she knew she'd be watching exactly what he was up to and who he was with. She was just thankful that she'd managed to avoid getting a glimpse of one of his long bathroom breaks after he'd gorged himself on hot dogs, root beer, and whatever other greasy snacks happened to be on hand at the time.

Sometimes it even happened when she wasn't thinking about him at all--like when she was asleep. It was more than a little weird to wake up to the sight of her own face.

Fortunately, she was pretty sure she was starting to get the hang of it, at least a little bit. She was still learning how to properly anchor her mind down so she didn't accidentally make the jump the second she started thinking about him, but she was getting better at extracting herself.

Throttle was still a little puzzled--and a little weirded out--by all of it. He definitely hadn't developed the same ability, but they had since figured out that no matter how far apart they were from each other, he could still sense her. After they both had some time to settle into and grow a little more used to their new skills, he was able to describe to her how much more clearly he could feel what she felt--which was, as always, more clearly than she could sense him. Only now that seemed to apply to when she was touching him, too, so the only time their clarity matched was when she went inside his head.

Plus there was still only so much distance she could put between them before she was out of range of their bond. Granted, that range was a lot greater than it used to be, but it was far from infinite. She thought that was a reasonably fair trade, but Throttle was still making up his mind on whether he agreed or not.

She was busy thinking about it while she quietly swept the floor of the main room of Second Chance one morning. It was early but neither Charley or Vinnie had showed up yet, and Ashlin was--of all places--over at the military base visiting some of the wounded who were still recuperating in bed, most of them the sames ones she had helped patch up. Throttle was bored today, and he kept covering noisy yawns as he separated the garage's vast collection of tools into three piles: perfectly intact, damaged but possibly still usable, and completely broken.

Modo was supposed to be sorting through their boxes of parts, but he was only pretending to as he paid more attention to Ako, who was clinging to his arm and giggling like crazy as he tried to dodge while Modo playfully pinched his little nose. The mood in the room was a relaxed, peaceful one--at least until Vinnie suddenly came bursting in and skid to a stop, knocking over an already tired-looking sawhorse in the process. "Guess what?" he cried.

They all stopped and looked at him. The energetic mouse was even more energetic than usual, practically bubbling over with excitement and eyes shining as he adjusted his hold on Vector, who looked equally excited. Modo studied them both for a moment. "No clue," he said. "But if you grin any harder, the whole top of your head is gonna come off."

Throttle wasn't as interested in finding out what was going on as he was in teasing his old friend. "Judging by the matching looks on your faces, Vector is either very mature for almost two, or your brain has never developed past babyhood."

Instead of getting annoyed, Vinnie looked happier than ever as he hoisted his little son higher, sitting him up on his shoulder. "Go on, big guy--tell 'em."

Vector's dark eyes shone like his father's, and he let out a laugh as he pressed his excited little hands together. "I a big bruzzer!"

It took a second for that to compute--and then the other two mice were rushing forward to congratulate their friend. Tamerin stayed quiet as they slapped him on the back and joked about a job well done, thinking back to that morning a few weeks ago when she met Charley outside the garage and noticed that she smelled like she had conceived. With everything that had happened since then, she had forgotten all about it.

She was glad that all the stress Charley had recently endured hadn't been a problem, and she smiled as she murmured her own congratulations before slipping past the trio and stepping outside while they brought out and started chugging root beer to celebrate. Even if it had occurred to any of them to get her some fruit juice, she would have still left them alone; this was one of those guy moments and she didn't want to get underfoot while they swapped wisecracks with each other.

But she had only been out on the edge of the front lawn for a couple of minutes when she felt Throttle come up behind her. She was getting a little better at tracking his movements again, and she sensed his hands about to rest on her shoulders a moment before they touched her. He brushed his lips against her hair. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Tamerin smiled a little. "Honestly? I'm hoping Charley has a girl. It wouldn't balance things out around here, but it would help."

Throttle chuckled quietly, right before she felt him turn serious. As he gently turned her to face him, he said, "I've kind of been thinking about that lately, actually."

She lifted her eyebrows curiously. "You mean kids?"

He nodded once. "That, and...this whole jumping into my head thing. If we've leaped ahead to a point no one else has ever reached before, I have to wonder what'll happen as our relationship continues normally."

Tamerin had been wondering about that, too. She couldn't imagine their bond growing any stronger, but as their love for each other deepened and their emotional bond strengthened, as well as they continued to enjoy each other physically, she assumed that it would.

But as she stood there thinking about it for a second, it dawned on her that that was exactly what Throttle was worried about. She had to admit, being able to slip into his mind was going to take a long time to get used to--for both of them. And what Throttle wanted now was for no more changes to take place, either to their bodies or their minds. "What are you suggesting we do?" she asked hesitantly.

He smiled a little, but she could tell by the way he braced himself that he didn't think she was going to like what he was about to say. "I paid a visit to Dee a few days ago and we had a good long talk about it. We studied every procedure we could find, and she thinks the best, most permanent solution is a vasectomy. And because she's the genius little doc that she is, she's confident that she can perfect the operation so there's virtually no pain and little recovery time."

Tamerin felt herself turn as blank as she felt. "A what?"

Her mate wrinkled his nose in thought as his fingers drummed softly on her shoulders for a moment. "Think of it like this; it'll mean that the faucet can still be turned on, but no water will come through the pipes."

It took her a minute to figure out what that meant--and when it hit her she felt a ball drop inside her. She opened her mouth to protest, but Throttle was already pressing a finger to her lips. "I know that's a strange concept for you, but think about it; just how much stronger could our bond end up getting? I'm honestly not all that excited about finding out, in case we both wind up existing in both our bodies at once or something. I think we should just be content that we've reached a level of connection no other Imeeran ever has before and leave things where they are."

He tapped her lips before pulling his finger away, but Tamerin didn't respond other than to wrinkle her nose in distaste. Interrupting a large part of what made their bond what it was sounded strange to the point of unnatural to her...but she had to admit he had a point. "And you still don't want any kids, right?" he went on, his tone and mood gently coaxing.

She quickly shook her head. "Even if my mother's pregnancy goes well...I don't want to chance it, no. We have Mitch, so I'm happy."

"Me too. And this way we won't have to worry about that anymore."

He was going to say more, but he paused and gave her a funny look as he felt the bubble of excitement that rose up inside her without warning as a sudden thought popped into her head. "What'd I say?"

Tamerin felt her cheeks warm a little, but she said, "There's a little something I've never told you."

She'd made sure not to, in case he felt bad about it, but now she eagerly explained to him how Imeeran females went hyper-sensitive when they were fertile, and how it supposedly made sex indescribably fantastic. "Better than what I can do all on my own?" he asked, pretending to pout.

"That's what I've been told," she replied with a smirk. "And since this way it won't end my cycle, we can do something else no one ever has; experience it more than once. Over and over again."

As many times as her body could stand. The thought made her head tingle.

Throttle went quiet, his expression thoughtful. Drawing her a little closer and putting his arms around her, he said lowly, "I never thought I'd say this, but I can't wait for the next time you're fertile."

Tamerin let out a laugh and held him tight. "Me either."

"So, we're agreed, then?"

It still sounded strange to her, but when it came down to it, the pros definitely outweighed the cons, so she nodded before resting her head on his chest. "I'll get used to the idea," she said lightly, "even if I do feel a little gypped when it comes to my favorite part of your anatomy."

"Flatterer."

He chuckled, then lifted her chin and kissed her softly. "Now that we've worked that out, I'm hoping you can help me with something."

"Oh?"

"Nothing big. Just wondering if anyone back on Malteria could spare us a little more water."

She smirked again. "I'd say it's a good possibility. What do you want it for?"

With a smile, he slid his arm around her shoulders and started walking back to the garage. "I'll tell you all about it inside. But I bet you could guess."

And as they headed back in and joined their friends--their family--Tamerin was pretty sure that she already had.

###### Epilogue

 _Where the fence is low_  
_And the water is rising_  
_And the fire comes down_  
_And the dark fills the skies in_  
_One foot on the ledge_  
_And I'm feeling for safety_  
_Somewhere between sure_  
_And I don't know, maybe_  
~Where The Fence Is Low;  Lights

Throttle took a deep, long breath, filling his lungs with slightly damp air, then let it out good and slowly. This was the perfect way to spend a quiet evening; watching the blazing orb that was the sun as it gradually descended in the sky with his arm tightly around his mate, as they sat together on the highest point on Mars.

Well, the highest point on Mars that was both within reasonable riding distance and still low enough to have oxygen, the latter being part of the compromise he and Tamerin reached before she finally consented to him taking her all the way out here. That was hours ago, and the sun's afterglow was starting to fade from the sky enough for the glitter of stars to shine in the darkening expanse of blue above them. The air was already cooling off a little, yet his mate still wasn't showing any sign of being interested in moving.

When they first rode up here and then sat down on a flat ledge that faced the sunset, she had wrapped her arms tightly around his torso and placed her head on his shoulder, and she'd stayed that way ever since. She kept her eyes closed almost the entire time, only cracking them open to look out at the horizon that seemed to stretch endlessly before them for a second or two before squeezing them shut again. He felt her stomach flutter like a horde of butterflies every time she looked, but she stayed obstinately put as the darkness grew deeper.

With a smile, Throttle gave her hand a squeeze and said, "I think you've been up here long enough. We can go back down now, if you want."

Tamerin shook her head stubbornly. "I'm fine. Getting dizzy with fear builds character."

Snickering, he turned his head and looked down at the ground, and at their home city in the distance, which looked so small right now it seemed to melt into the skyline. Yet even from here, he could see dots of light turning on as night came...and there wasn't any sign of what had encircled it that long day, just a few short weeks ago. Every last section of the outer wall was tucked back into the ground where it belonged.

What _was_ around the city, some small and some not so small, were pools of water. A few were casual fishing ponds (Modo had made sure they didn't forget to add fish) while others were full-blown lakes, and there were more farther out from their territory, already showing signs of grass and other life growing around them.

Throttle couldn't imagine the whole planet looking like that, and even if it was possible, it would be many years before it did. But then again, he would have never thought they would be able to come as far as they already had in such a short time, so who knows?

With another slow sigh of contentment, he pulled his mate a little closer and rested his cheek on the top of her head. He didn't verbalize that he felt ready to spend the whole night up here, knowing that she could sense the urge easily, but she didn't object. What had changed her mind about finally coming up here, or so she had told him as he half-dragged her out the door, was that after losing him like she almost did, she knew she could handle anything. Nothing could possibly be scarier than that--and no amount of fear was going to keep her apart from him.

Even so, he was pretty sure they'd enjoyed the view long enough, and gave her arm a coaxing pat. "C'mon; it's getting cold out here."

Kind of damp, too, the air smelling of moisture like it did late at night during after-dark rides back on Earth. It took a little bit for this thought to fully sink into his lazy mind, but when it did, he lifted his head with wide eyes and a thumping heart. "Did you notice what it smells like right now?"

Having noticed the change in his mood, Tamerin was already lifting her head from his shoulder and opening her eyes. Brow furrowing slightly, she took a quiet sniff. "Rain," she said. "It smells like rain."

"Uh-huh. Do you have any idea how long it's been since it rained on Mars?"

She didn't. "Do you?"

He let out a laugh. "It's been so long I forget."

Knowing what a big deal this was for him--for everyone--Tamerin tightened her arms and put her head back on his shoulder as she said, "Want to stay up here and wait to see if it really happens? I don't mind. It's kind of cozy."

He had already been thinking the same thing, but he kind of doubted that it would happen tonight, or tomorrow night either. It was still too soon...but it told him something.

Some of the choices they had made hadn't been easy, but he knew now that they had been the right ones.

_~Fin~_


End file.
